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THE 



POETICAL WOEKS 






GEORGE HERBERT. 



MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 



BY 

REV. ROBERT ARIS WILLMOTT. 



BOSTON: 
LITTLE, BROWN AND COMPANY. 

M.DCCC.LXIV. 



tr 






RIVEESIDE, CAMBRIDGE: 
STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY H. 0. HOUGHTON AND COMPANY. 



JUN 5 V907 



ADVERTISEMENT. 

Herbert's English Poems are here reprinted 
from the recent London edition by Bell and Daldy. 
The text, both of the English and of the Latin 
and Greek poems, has been compared with Pick- 
ering's edition. 

The tasteful Biographical Sketch is by the 
Rev. Robert Aris Willmott. 

A2)ril 1864. 



CONTENTS. 





Page 1 




Pas;e 


Me:moir of Herbert . ix 


The Church, continued. 




The Temple — 




Praise . . . . » 


65 


The Dedication- . . 


. 1 


Affliction .... 


66 


The Church Porch 


— 


IMatins .... 1 


67 


PeriiThanterium . . 


. 1 


Sin 


68 


The Church — 




Even-Song . . . 


68 


Superliminare 


. 21 


Church Monuments . 


70 


The Altar . . 


. 21 


Church Music . . 


71 


The Sacrifice . . 


. 22 


Church Lock and Key 


71 


The Thanksgiving 


. 33 


The Church-Floor . . 


72 


The Reprisal 


. 35 


The Windows . . 


73 


The Agonv . . 


. 36 


Trinity Sunday . . 


74 


The Sinner . . 


. 37 


Content .... 


74 


Good Friday . . 


. 37 


The Quiddity . . 


76 


Redemption . . 


. 39 


Humility .... 


77 


Sepulchre . . . 


. 40 


Frailty 


78 


Easter .... 


. 41 


Constancy . . • 


79 


Easter Wings . 


. 42 


Affliction .... 


80 


Holv Baptism . 


. 43 


The Star .... 


81 


Holy Baptism . 
Nature .... 


. 44 




83 


. 45 


Avarice .... 


85 


Sin 


. 46 


Anagram .... 


86 


Affliction . . . 


. 46 


To all Angels and Saints 86 


Repentance . . 


. . 49 


Emplovment . . . 


87 


Faith .... 


. . 51 


Denial 


89 


Prayer .... 


. 53 


Christmas . . . 


90 


Holv Communion 


. 53 


Ungratefulness . . 


91 


Antiphon . . . 


. 55 


Sighs and Groans . 


. 93 


Love (1) . . . 


. . 56 


The Worid . . . 


. 94 


Love (2) . . . 


. . 57 


Our Life is hid with 


The Temper . . 


• 57 


Christ in God (Coloss 




The Temper . . 


. . 59 


iii. 3) .... 


95 


Jordan .... 


. . 59 


Vanit}-- 


. 96 


Emplovment . . 


. . 60 


Lent 


. 97 


The Holy Scriptures 


>(1) 61 


Virtue 


. 99 


The Holy Scripture 


5(2) 62 


The Pearl (Matt, xiii.) 


100 


Whitsunday . . 


. . 63 


Affliction .... 


. 101 


Grace .... 


. . 64 


Man 


. 103 



VI 



CONTENTS. 



Page 
The Church, continued. 

Antiphon 105 

Unkindness .... lOG 

Life 107 

Submission .... 108 

Justice 109 

Cliarms and Knots . 110 

Affliction Ill 

Mortilication .... 112 

Decay 113 

Misery HI: 

Jordan 117 

Prayer . . . ... 118 

Obedience 119 

Conscience . . . .121 

Sion 122 

Home 123 

The British Church . 126 

The Quip 127 

Vanity 128 

The Dawning . . . 129 

Jesu 130 

Business 130 

Dialogue 132 

Dulness 133 

Love-Joy 135 

Providence .... 135 

Hope 112 

Sins Round .... 112 

Time 113 

Gratefuhiess . . . ■ . 115 

Peace 310 

Confession .... 118 

Giddiness 119 

The Bunch of Grapes . 150 
Love Unknown . . . 151 
Man's Medley . . . 151 
The Storm .... 156 

Paradise 157 

The Method .... 158 

Divinity 159 

Grieve not the Holy 

Spirit, etc. (Ephes. 

iv. 30) 161 

The Family .... 162 

The Size 163 

Artillery 165 

Church-Rents and 

Schisms 167 



The Church, continued. 
Justice . . . 
The Pilgrimage 
The Hold-Fast 
Complaining 
The Discharge 
Praise . . . 
An Offering . 
Longing . . 
The Bag . . 
The Jews . . 
The Collar 
The Glimpse . 
Assurance . . 
The Call . . 
Clasping of Hands 
Praise . . . 
Joseph's Coat 
The Pulley . 
The Priesthood 
The Search . 
Grief . . . 
The Cross . . 
The Flower . 
Dotage . . . 
The Son . . 
A True Hymn 
The Answer . 
A Dialogue-Anthem- 
Christian. Death 
The Water- Course . 
Self- Condemnation 
Bitter-Sweet . . . 
The Glance . . . 
The Twenty-third 

Psalm .... 
Mary JMagdalen . . 

Aaron 

The Odor (2 Cor. ii.) 
The Foil .... 
The Forerunners 
The Rose .... 
Discipline .... 
The Invitation . . 
The Banquet . . . 
The Posy .... 
A Parodv .... 
The Elixir . . . 
A Wreath .... 



Page 

168 
169 
170 
171 
172 
174 
170 
178 
181 
183 
183 
185 
186 
188 
188 
189 
191 
192 
193 
195 
197 
198 
200 
202 
203 
203 
201 

205 
206 

206 
207 
208 

209 
210 
211 
212 
213 
214 
215 
217 
218 
220 
222 
222 
224 
225 



CONTENTS. 



VD 



The Church, continued. 

Death 225 

Doomsda}' 227 

Judgment 228 

Heaven 229 

Love 230 

The Church Militant 231 
L'Envoy . . . .^ . 241 

Miscellaneous Poems — 
A Sonnet (New Year's 

Gift to his ]\lother) . 242 
Inscription (to his Suc- 
cessor at Bem&rton) 243 
On Lord Danvers . . 244 
A Paradox (that the 
Sick are in a better 
case than the Whole) 244 



Latin and Greek Poems : 

Parentalia — 

Memoriae Matris Sa- 
crum 247 

Epitaphium .... 257 

MuSiE Responsori.e — 
Ad Andrea3 Melvini 
Scoti. Anti-Tami- 
Cami - Categoriam • 260 
Melvini Poema . . 261 

Epigrammata Apolo- 
getic a — 
Ad Regem .... 270 
Wallite Principi . . . 270 
Reverendis. Episc. Vin- 

toniensi 271 

Ad Kegem .... 271 
Ad Melvinum . . .272 
Auti-Tami-Cami-Cate- 

goria 272 

Partitio Anti - Tami- 

Cami- Categorise . 273 
In Metri Genus . . .273 
De Larvata Gorgone . 274 
De Praesulum Fastu . 274 



Page 
Latin Poems, continued. 
De Gemina Academia 274 
De S. Baptismi Ritu . 275 
De Signaculo Crucis . 276 
De Juramento EcclesiiB 276 
De Purificatione . . . 277 
De Antichrist! Decore 

Pontiticali . . . .277 
De Superpelliceo . . 278 
De Pileo Quadrato . . 278 
In Catharum .... 279 
De Episcopis .... 279 
De lisdem ad Melvi - 

num 280 

De Textore Catharo . 280 
De Magicis Rotatibus . 280 
Ad Fratres .... 281 
De Labe, Maculisque . 281 
De Musica Sacra . . 282 
De Eadem . . . .284 
De Rituum Usu . . .284 
De Annulo Conjugali . 285 
De Mundis et Mundanis 285 
De Oratione Dominica 286 
In Catharum Quendam 286 
De Lupa Lustri Vati- 

cani 287 

Roma Dabit . . . .287 
De Impositione . . . 288 
Supplicum Ministrorum 

Raptus 288 

De Auctorum Enume- 

ratione 288 

De Auri Sacra Fame . 290 
Ad Scotiam Protrepti- 

con ad Pacem . . 290 
Ad Seductos Innocen- 

tgg 290 

Ad Melvinum . . .291 
Ad Eundem .... 292 
Ad Seren. Regem . . 293 
Ad Deum 294 

Inventa Bellica . . 296 

Alia Poemata Latina — 
Ad Auctorem Instaura- 
tionis Magme (Fran- 
ciscum Bacon) . . 300 



VIU 



CONTENTS. 



Page I 
Latin Poems, continued. 
In Honorem F. Bacon 300 
In Obitum F. Bacon . 301 
Comparatio inter Mu- j 

nus Sumnii Cancel- i 

lariatus et Li brum . 302 j 
Ethiopissa ambit Ces- j 

tum Diversi Coloris 
Virum 302 



Page 
Latin Poems, continued. 
In Natales et Pascha 

Concurrentes . . . 303 
Ad Johannem Donne, 

D.D 303 

In Obitum Serenis. Ke- 

ginre Annge . . . 304 
In Obitum Henrici 

Principis Wallise . 304 
E. Msto. Autog. . . .308 



MEMOIR OF HERBERT. 

BY THE REV. ROBERT ARIS WILLMOTT. 

• 

When the visitor to Cambridge enters the Ante- 
chapel of Trinity College, he meets two objects 
of the deepest interest in art and science, — the 
marvellous statue of Newton, and the sitting figure 
of Bacon. If he raise his eyes to the painted 
windows, a different train of thought is awakened. 
One group especially attracts and detains him. It 
is a scene at Bethany, in the house of that family 
whom Jesus loved. Among the company gathered 
around him appears a face familiar to most students 
of the sweet and serious learning of the seven- 
teenth century : it is that of George Herbert, 
to whom, after so many years, his own college has 
consecrated this memorial. 

The circumstances of his life are neither many 
nor varied. He was bom — one of ten children — 
April 3d, 1593, in the castle of Montgomery in 
Wales. He came of a bold and noble race. There 
is at Penshurst a portrait of his brother, Lord 
Edward, painted by Isaac Oliver, which shows a 
swarthy countenance, with dark eyes and exceed- 



X MEMOIR OF HERBERT. 

ingly black hair. The poet's father had the same 
complexion : he died in 1597, leaving George, in 
his fourth year, to the care of his mother. He 
remained, with two of his brothers, under a private 
tutor, until he was sent to Westminster School ; 
from whence, at the age of fifteen, he was elected 
to Trinity College, Cambridge, where his name 
appears among the scholars, May 5, 1609. "In 
Cambridge, we may find our George Herbert's 
behaviour to be such, that we may conclude he 
consecrated the first fruits of his early age to 
virtue, and a serious study of learning." So 
writes good Isaak Walton. Nor is there reason 
to doubt the affectionate panegyrist. Herbert's 
advance in academic rank was encouraging and 
rapid. Within two years after the taking of his 
Bachelor's degree, he was chosen a Fellow of 
the Society ; and, on the 21st of October, 1619, he 
obtained the distinguished post of public orator, 
vacated by Sir Francis Nethersole, who was then 
politically employed on the continent. It was an 
office, according to Fuller, of more honour than 
profit ; the original salary being only forty shillings 
a year. It dates its beginning from the early 
part of the 16th century; before which period, 
rhetorical aid was procured as it was wanted, the 
scribe being paid by the letter. In Herbert's time, 
the annual income was about thirty pounds. But 
the attractions of the oratorship did not lie on its 
pecuniary side. It was a high road to court-life. 



MEMOIR OF HERBERT. 



A. former orator, Sir Robert Naimton, had been 
made a Secretary of State ; and Herbert cherisbed 
hopes of reaping a similar reward. Barnabas 
Oley had heard that he might have obtained the 
situation, but "that, like a genuine son of Levi, 
he balked all secular ways, saw neither father nor 
mother, child nor brother, faith nor friends (save 
in Christ Jesus), chose the Lord for his service, 
and His service for employment." 

Walton gives a truer, though a less flattering, 
explanation. "In this time of Mr. Herbert's 
attendance and expectation of some good occasion 
to remove from Cambridge to court, God, in 
whom there is an unseen chain of causes, did, in 
a short time, put an end to the lives of two of his 
most obliging and most powerful friends, Lodowick, 
Duke of Richmond, and James, Marquis of Hamil- 
ton ; and, not long after him. King James died 
also, and with them all Mr. Herbert's court-hopes ; 
so that he betook himself to a retreat from London 
to a friend in Kent, where he lived very privately, 
and was such a lover of solitariness, he was judged 
to impair his health more than his study had 
done." Some earnest of future favours his learned 
iiio-enuity had already acquired ; for, in 1623, he 
received from James a valuable "sinecure," which 
his predecessor had formerly bestowed on Sir 
Philip Sidney. But a brighter day was dawnmg. 
He sought and found a more enduring sovereign. 
The date of his ordination has not been dis- 



XU MEMOIR OF HERBERT. 

covered; but, in the summer of 1626 (July 15), 
the haughty, though generous, Bishop Williams 
gave to him the prebend of Leighton Ecclesia, in 
the diocese of Lincoln. Oley informs us, that, 
" because he lived far from and so could not per- 
form the duties of that place, he would fain have 
resigned it to Master Ferrar; but Master F. 
wholly refused, and diverted or directed his charity 
to the re-edifying the ruined church of Leighton, 
where the corpse of the prebend lay." 

Leighton is a village in Huntingdonshire, near 
Spaldwick ; and the church stands to the right of 
the road from Huntingdon to Thrapston. A 
visitor, in 1851, has furnished some interesting 
particulars.* The church is composed of a western 
tower, with porches, transepts, and a chancel. 
Herbert, in his capacity of prebendary, became a 
proprietor in the parish, and probably applied the 
income which he derived from it to the restoration 
of the edifice ; but the alterations are said to have 
been less extensive than the narrative of Walton 
implies. The old walls remain. The chief outlay 
was upon a new roof, and in repairing the parts 
of the church then occupied by the congregation. 
The seats are of oak, open, in the style of the 17th 
century. The tower, the font, and some windows 
in the chancel, were contributed by Herbert. A 
gallery, erected for an organ in 1840, has slightly 

* Notes and Queries, iii. 178. 



MEMOIR OF HERBERT. XIU 

disarranged the symmetry, and high pews have 
replaced the old benches in the chancel. The 
pulpit and reading-desk, standing north and south, 
correspond in every particular. The font is ex- 
tremely shallow, no texts of Scripture adorn the 
walls ; but traces were found of the poor man's 
box having been formerly fixed " to the back of 
the bench nearest to the south door." The tower 
is battlemented, and commands a pleasing prospect 
over fifteen or sixteen villages. By the aid of a 
glass, the magnificent pile of Ely Cathedral, nearly 
thirty miles off, may be discerned. One ornamen- 
tal spout bears the date of 1632. Three crests 
were noticed, but they could not be clearly de- 
ciphered. The family device of the Herberts did 
not appear ; nor has the restorer left behind him 
any record of his own munificence, or of the 
generous charity to which he stirred up his re- 
lations and friends. In 1627, Herbert lost his 
mother, after a long season of suffering which his 
tenderness did much to soften. " For myself, 
dear mother," he had written to her some years 
earlier, " I always feared sickness more than death, 
because sickness hath made me unable to perform 
those offices for which I came into the world, and 
must yet be kept in it ; but you are freed from that 
fear, who have already abundantly discharged that 
part, having both ordered your family, and so 
brought up your children, that they have attained 
to the years of discretion and competent mainte- 



XIT MEMOIR OF HEKBERT. 

nance ; so that now, if they do not well, the fault 
cannot be charged on you, whose example and 
care of them will justify you both to the world 
and your own conscience ; insomuch that, whether 
you turn your thoughts on the life past, or on the 
joys that are to come, you have strong preserva- 
tions against all disquiet." 

Soon after his mother's death, his own weak 
health grew weaker ; and a sharp ague drove him 
to seek ease in the pleasant village of Woodford, 
in Essex, where his brother Henry lived. There 
he abode about a year, becoming his own physician, 
and curing his disorder by abstinence from " drink " 
and all fresh meat. But, as in other cases, the 
remedies were worse than the disease ; signs of 
consumption beginning to show themselves, a dif- 
ferent climate was recommended; and he sought 
it at Dauntsey, in Wiltshire, the house of Lord 
Danby, by whom he was affectionately welcomed 
and entertained. In this choice air, as Aubrey 
calls it, by avoiding severe study, and partaking 
of cheerful exercise and society, his health re- 
turned. A new scene was now to open before 
him. There lived at Bainton, in the same county, 
a kinsman of Lord Danby, — Mr. Charles Dan vers. 
He had nine daughters, of whom Jane was his 
favourite. To her he had often spoken of Herbert, 
and promised a double blessing upon the union that 
he hoped to see. It happened that Mr. Danvers 
died before Herbert's visit to Dauntsey; but, as 



MEMOIR OF HERBERT. XV 

we learn from Walton, Jane " became so much a 
Platonick as to Ml in love with Mr. Herbert un- 
seen." The smallest spark would light such a 
train. The only obstacle was the want of ac- 
quaintance. This was easily removed. Some 
mutual friends procured a meeting; and, within 
three days of the first interview, Jane Danvers 
changed her name into Herbert. 

If Herbert, whose memory was stored with pro- 
verbs, called to mind the wise saw about "marrying 
in haste," he never pointed the moral of it with 
his own experience. He had more cause for re- 
joicing, than repenting at leisure. Walton sweetly 
portrays the charm and blessedness of his wedded 
life. " The Eternal Lover of mankind made them 
happy in each other's mutual and equal affections 
and compliance ; indeed, so happy that there never 
was any opposition betwixt them, unless it were a 
contest which should most incline to a compliance 
with the other's desires." 

About three months after the marriage, Dr. 
Curie, being elevated to the See of Bath and 
Wells, resigned the rectory of Bemerton, which 
accordingly passed from the patron. Lord Pem- 
broke, to the king; but, when the earl asked it 
for Herbert, his request met with a kind answer. 
The good news reached him at Bainton, where he 
was staying with his wife's relatives ; and soon 
afterwards being joined by Mr. Arthur Woodnot, 
his old dear friend, he set out for Wilton. The 



Xvi MEMOIR OF HERBERT. 

cure of souls lay heavy upon his mind, and he was 
in doubt whether to accept or decline it. Lord 
Pembroke, feeling unable to combat his scruples, 
adopted the wise resolution of laying them before 
Laud, then Bishop of London. The result should 
be told in the words of Walton : " The bishop did 
the next day so convince Mr. Herbert, that the 
refusal of it was a sin, that a tailor was sent for 
to come speedily from Salisbury to Wilton, to take 
measure, and make him canonical clothes against 
next day ; which the tailor did. And Mr. Herbert, 
being so habited, went with his presentation to the 
learned Dr. Davenant, who was then Bishop of 
Salisbury, and he gave him institution immedi- 
ately ; and he was also the same day (which was 
April 26, 1630) inducted into the good and more 
pleasant than healthful parsonage of Bemerton." 
An interesting story is related of the ceremony. 
Being left in the church to toll the bell, as the 
law required him to do, he wearied the patience 
of his friends at the door ; and one of them, look- 
ing in at the window, saw the new rector lying 
before the altar. They afterwards knew the cause 
of the delay, when they heard that he had been 
setting rules for the government of his pastoral 
life, and making a vow to keep them. 

His parish gave him ample occupation. The 
church needed repairs, and the parsonage had fallen 
into decay ; his predecessor having resided in a 
distant village. The larger portion of the house 



MEMOIR OF HERBERT. xvii 

he rebuilt at his own expense, recommending his 
successor to cultivate Hberal and grateful feelings 
in an inscription set over the chimney in the hall, 
where it is no longer to be found. 

The rectory is only separated from the church 
by the width of the road, a distance now of thirty- 
four, and in Herbert's time of forty, feet. A grass- 
plot slopes down to the river, commanding a fine 
view of Salisbury Cathedral. A pleasing anec- 
dote is told in connection with this garden. Norris 
became the rector of Bemerton nearly sixty years 
after the death of Herbert. He was there upon 
one occasion visited by Mr. Colbome, the early 
friend of the poet Young. The spire rising above 
the trees drew from him an exclamation of sur- 
prise : " What a magnificent structure ! You are 
happy, sir, in this delightful prospect." "Yes," 
answered Norris, with melancholy humour : " it is 
all the prospect I have with respect to that cathe- 
dral." A medlar, which tradition says was planted 
by the poet, still flourishes in the garden. 

K Herbert's life had been prolonged, we may 
conclude that the church would have been restored 
with some regard to the beauty of holiness. It 
was always a very humble building, and is only 
forty-five feet long by eighteen in width.* The 
south and west windows, of the style called Deco- 
rated, are assigned to the beginning of the fourteenth 

* Notes and Queries, ii. 460. 
I 



XVm MEMOIR OF HERBERT. 

century. The east window is modern, and the 
old sittings have been removed. The decorated 
windows, font, and bell are probably the only 
remaining objects that met the eye of Herbert. 

His pastoral labours were crowded into the 
space of two years and a few months. Every 
reader remembers the description of his daily 
prayer, and how " some of the meaner sort of his 
parish did so love and reverence Mr. Herbert, that 
they would let their plough rest when his saint's 
bell rung to prayer, that they might also offer their 
devotion to God with him, and would then return 
back to their plough," thinking themselves the 
happier for the blessing they carried away. Cir- 
cumstances, altogether independent of his own 
character and piety, helped to quicken the devo- 
tional reverence of the people. The population 
of the parish, embracing the villages of Bemerton, 
Fuggleston, and Quidhampton, does not exceed 
six hundred persons. Bemerton contains about 
one hundred and fifty.* In Herbert's time, the 
number was considerably smaller. Perhaps twenty 
cottages sheltered his flock ; for a curate watched 
over the remoter districts. Pastoral superintend- 
ence would thus be easy and effective. A more 
important key to his influence is to be found in his 
rank. He was the kinsman of the Pembi*okes, 
whose splendid mansion stands within a walk of 

* As I am obligingly informed by the present rector, the 
Rev. W. E. Pigott. 



MEMOIR OF HERBERT. XIX 

the parsonage. In that day, a man of family was 
supposed to honour the church by entering it. 
Barnabas Oley drew out a catalogue of dignijfied 
persons who had received orders ; and he even 
remembered, with evident satisfaction, to have 
read that Henry VIII. was designed by his father 
for the archbishopric of Canterbury, if his brother 
Arthur had lived to succeed to the crown. If we 
read Jeremy Collier's " Essays on Pride and the 
Office of a Chaplain," we are struck by the phe- 
nomenon of a learned man sitting down to prove, 
with the help of logic, that " a priest or a chaplain 
in a family is not a servant." * Oley had no 
hesitation in affirming that the spiritual advantages 
of a nobleman or a gentleman over a clerk of 
lower parentage are very considerable ; the truth 
taught being sooner believed, the reproof bestowed 
better received, and the example shown making 
a deeper impression. At a later period, it was 
supposed that a priest and a gentleman were 
distinct characters, and that courtesy had no rela- 
tionship to learning. Thus we find Sir WilUam 
Temple speaking of an English and a French 
book, as " one writ by a divine, the other by a 
gentleman ;" and Lord Shaftesbury remarking, that 
"a saint-author least values politeness," and scorns 
to reform his temper by the standard of good 
company, or the rule of manners. 

* Essays, third edition, 1698. 



XX MEMOIR OF HERBERT. 

Herbert's acceptance of a benefice was esteemed 
a condescension by his contemporaries. " He was 
none of the nobles of Tekoa, who, at the building 
of Jerusalem, put not their necks to the work of the 
Lord,^^ was the commentary of Fuller. His per- 
sonal gifts added a lustre to his inherited. He 
would gain a grace from every comparison with 
his rural brethren, of whom we catch a glimpse in 
the remark of Walton, that, if Herbert " were at 
any time too zealous in his sermons, it was either 
in reproving the ill behaviour of congregations, or 
of those ministers that huddled up the church- 
prayers without a visible reverence and affection, 
name-ly, such as seemed to say the Lord's Prayer 
or Collect in a breath" How he labored in this 
happy corner of the Lord's field, hoping all things, 
and blessing all people, asking his own way to 
Sion, and showing it to others, we read in the 
artless page of Walton. But not long was he to 
sing his song in a strange land. While any por- 
tion of strength remained, he continued to read 
prayers twice every day, as his custom had been ; 
and, when he felt himself no longer equal to that 
labour of love, he resigned it to his curate. About 
a month before his death, Mr. Duncon, subse- 
quently Rector of Fryer Barnet, Middlesex, came 
to visit him ; and, speaking to Walton of the 
interview, after an interval of nearly forty years, 
he declared that the pious discourse and the meek 
demeanour of Herbert were still fresh in his 



MEMOIR OF HERBERT. XXI 

memory. Mr. Dimcon's place was supplied by 
an older and dearer friend, Mr. Woodnot, who 
never left the sick man until He who gives his 
beloved sleep had taken him. 

The setting of the sun was as calm as its shining 
had been, only of a richer hue. The wife of 
Herbert, his three nieces, and Mr. Woodnot, stood 
beside him, while, in his own words, "he passed 
a conflict with his last enemy, and overcame him 
by the merits of his Master, Jesus." His last 
words were, " Lord, forsake me not now my 
strength faileth me ; but grant me mercy for the 
merits of my Jesus. And now, Lord, Lord, now 
receive my soul." And so his Father in heaven 
took his child to his own home. 

The following entry in the Register of Bemerton 
is the latest record of one of God's most devoted 
children : " Mr. George Herbert, Esq., Parson of 
St. Foughleston and Bemerton, was buried 3 day 
of March, 1632." 

Few faces are better known than Herbert's, 
with its austere sweetness, and the evident marks 
of inward decline. In person, he is described by 
Walton as tall and unusually thin, but cheerful in 
look, and always attracting friends and strangers 
by the elegance and the benignity of his manner 
and address. He stands amid a group of English 
worthies remarkable for their personal and historic 
interest. The eloquent Donne was one of his 
dearest friends ; he knew the accomplishments of 



XXU MEMOIR OF HERBERT. 

Wotton, and the learned casuistry of Sanderson ; 
the first portion of Hooker's wonderful treatise 
appeared while he was in his cradle ; and his 
childish fancy was enriched by the Essays of 
Bacon. With Ben Jonson, who survived him 
about five years, he was likely to be acquainted. 
Shakspere he had probably seen in some festive 
interval of Cambridge life ; for that illustrious 
poet did not retire from London before 1611, when 
Herbert was eighteen years old. In this splendid 
company of theologians, philosophers, and poets, 
he wore an expression and a costume of his own. 
If his court-views had been realized, we might 
have expected to have seen blended in him Sid- 
ney's chivalry, and the picturesque foppery of 
Raleigh. He was only seven years younger than 
the hero of Zutphen, to whom, in temperament, he 
seems to have shown a remarkable resemblance. 

We are to consider Herbert as a poet, a pastor, 
and a writer of prose. His poetical reputation 
was wider and greater than Milton's. Within a 
few years, twenty thousand copies of the " Temple" 
were sold. Cowley alone outwent him in popu- 
larity ; one being the laureate of religious, as the 
other was of fashionable, life. The history of his 
poems is most touching and beautiful. In his last 
sickness, he presented them to a friend in these 
words : " Sir, I pray deliver this little book to my 
dear brother Ferrar, and tell him he shall find in 
it a picture of the many spiritual conflicts that 



MEMOIR OF HERBERT. VTin 

have passed betwixt God and my soul, before I 
could subject mine to the will of Jesus, my 
Master, in whose service I have now found per- 
fect freedom : desire him to read it ; and then, if 
he can think it may turn to the advantage of any 
poor, dejected soul, let it be made public : if not, 
let him burn it ; for I and it are less than the least 
of God's mercies." 

The publication of the " Temple " produced an 
immediate impression. Henry Vaughan, whose 
rough lines abound in touches of a quaint and 
suggestive fancy, observes, in reference to the 
impure verses of the day, " The first that, with 
any effectual success, attempted a diversion of this 
foul and overflowing stream, was the blessed man, 
Mr. George Herbert, whose holy life and verse 
gained many pious converts, of whom I am the 
least ; and gave the first check to a most flourishing 
and admired wit of his time." * 

Herbert belongs to that third Italian school 
which was to occupy a chapter in Gray's history 
of poetry, as he communicated the plan to Warton. 
It was a school, in his opinion, full of conceit, 
beginning in the reign of Elizabeth ; continued 
under James and Charles the First by Donne, 
Crashaw, and Cleveland ; carried to its height by 
Cowley ; and ending with Sprat. Herbert was cer- 
tainly a disciple. Complicated metaphors abound. 

* Preface to Silex Scintillans, p. 37. 



XXIV MEMOIR OF HERBERT. 

The poems of that age recall the mechanical 
contrivances of the eccentric Mr. Winstanley, the 
first architect of the Eddjstone Lighthouse. In 
his strange abode, nothing was what it seemed to 
be. An old slipper upon the floor started into a 
spectral figure ; a visitor, resting in a chair, was 
suddenly embraced by two muscular arms, or, 
sauntering into a summer-house, straightway found 
himself floating away into the middle of a canal. 
The poetical surprises of Herbert are sometimes 
equally unexpected, and, it must be confessed, not 
less ingenious. The reader's eye is perpetually 
struck with a transformation or a grotesque inven- 
tion. 

Even the friendly taste of Mr. Keble * was 
offended by the constant flutter of his fancy, for 
ever hovering round and round the theme. But 
this was a peculiarity which the most gifted writers 
admired. Dryden openly avowed, that nothing 
appeared more beautiful to him than the imagery 
in Cowley, which some readers condemned. It 
must, at least, be said in praise of this creative 
playfulness, that it is a quality of the intellect 
singularly sprightly and buoyant ; it ranges over 
:a boundless landscape, pierces into every corner, 
and, by the light of its own fire, — to adopt a 
phrase of Temple, — discovers a thousand little 
bodies or images in the world, unseen by common 

* Prffilectiones Academicae, xx. 12. 



MEMOIR OF HERBERT. XXV 

eyes, and only manifested by the rays of that 
poetic sun. 

There is in Herbert another sort of quaintness, 
which is neither the fruit of his age nor of his 
own understanding, but of the authors whom he 
studied. "He that reads Mr. Herbert's poems 
attendingly shall find the excellence of Scripture 
divinity, and choice passages of the Fathers, bound 
up in metre." If James Montgomery* had con- 
sidered this remark of Barnabas Oley, he 'would 
have hesitated to see " devotion itself turned into 
masquerade " by the poet. Herbert did not forget 
to consult, for his outpourings of heart-praise and 
love, that commonplace book of Greek and Latin 
theology which the Country Parson is recom- 
mended to collect and ponder. Many of his curio- 
sities of fancy have a patristic rather than a poetic 
ancestry, and are to be sought in Chrysostom or 
Cyprian, instead of in Donne or Marini. 

Every true work of art, whether it be of the 
pencil, the chisel, or the pen, addresses itself to 
particular sympathies. Of course, there will be a 
certain outward excellence which the universal 
taste cannot fail to understand and admire. I 
speak of the inner and the hidden charm. The 
beauty of Raffaelle's Madonna reveals itself very 
differently to the critic and the worshipper. Milton 
may be admired by the common reader for his 

* Christian Poet, p. 258. 



XXVI MEMOIR OF HERBERT. 

grandeur of sentiment ; but it is only tlu'ough the 
spectacles of books that the splendour and the 
loveliness of his visions are clearly discerned. 
Now, Herbert has, according to his degree, the 
distinctive peculiarities of RafFaelle and Milton. 
His sweetness of fancy, his vigorous sense, and 
his happiness of idiom, may be appreciated by ail 
people ; just as the grace and the dignity of the 
picture and the epic come home to the least refined 
observer. But there is a remoter and a delight- 
fuller quality that requires a kindred heart to 
comprehend it. Herbert is preeminently a poet 
of the church : his similes are drawn from her 
ceremonial ; his most solemn thoughts are born 
of her mysteries ; his tenderest lessons are taught 
by her prayers. To a reader without a deep, 
catholic devotion, he is only the ingenious or the 
fantastic rhymer ; to one who has that feeling, his 
verses are the strings of a musical instrument, 
making melody in themselves, and awaking sweet 
sounds in the hearts of those who hear it. 

There is a passage in one of Southey's letters 
that seems very forcibly to illustrate this view.* 
Speaking of Wordsworth, he asks, " Does he not 
associate more feeling with particular phrases, and 
you also with him, than those phrases convey to 
any one else ? This I suspect. Who would part 
with a ring of a dead friend's hair ? And yet a 

* Life, by his Son, ii. 191. 



MEMOIR OF HEKBERT. XXVU 

jeweller will give for it only the value of the gold." 
This is just the case with Herbert. His verses 
are not to be tossed into the scale, and weighed. 
There is the hair of the dead friend in the gold. 
The gospel consecrates every rhyme. The Li- 
turgy is reflected in nearly every devout sentiment. 
The poem on " Sin " is almost a collect, in its 
majestic harmony and simpleness of language. 
The " Sacrifice " has quite a scriptural solemnity 
of grouping and representation. 

A remarkable charm of Herbert's poetry is 
seen in what may be named the proverbial philo- 
sophy of common sense. All the famous writers 
of that and the former century abounded in it ; 
whether we take up the "Apologies and Defences" 
of Jewell, the Essays of Bacon, or the exhortations 
of Taylor. The quantity of plain, practical wis- 
dom for every-day life, treasured up in the verses 
of Herbert, has scarcely been considered. The 
" Church Porch " is a little hand-book of rules for 
the management of temper and conversation and 
business. Every child ought to get it by heart. 
It recalls the comparison by which Plato charac- 
terised Socrates. The outside of the vase is 
scrawled over with odd shapes and writing; but 
within are precious liquors, and healing medi- 
cines, and rare mixtures of far-gathered herbs 
and flowers. In connection with this moralising 
disposition may be a mentioned a certain familiar 
humour, suddenly shooting gleams across a serious 



XXVm MEMOIR OF HERBERT. 

passage, and very strongly reminding us of the 
pleasantry of Cowper. In tlie following pages, 
the reader will be struck by a playfulness that 
looks like a thoughtful smile from Weston. 

The masculine sense of Herbert has drawn 
eyes that were skilful enough to avoid his faults. 
" From the dregs of Crashaw, of Carew, of Her- 
bert, and others (for it is well known he wa:^ a 
great reader of all those poets), Pope has judi- 
ciously collected gold." So writes Dr. Warton.* 
From Crashaw, Pope might gather some fuel to 
feed that devotional flame which burns so vehe- 
mently in his " Eloisa ; " but in Herbert he obtained, 
what he knew better than any of his contempora- 
ries how to use, an ample store of practical wisdom 
tersely uttered. His discoveries were not confined 
to loose gold in the rubbish : he found pieces of 
it worked up into an elegance of form which he 
himself could not improve. Many lines in the 
" Temple " have the polish and the glitter of the 
" IMoral Essays ; " and not seldom the structure of 
his own couplet, and the identical pause of the 
caesura, are anticipated. 

The characteristic of Herbert's fancy is fruit- 
fulness. The poetry, like the theology, of that 
age, put all learning into an abridgment. A course 
of lectures flowed into the rich essence of a single 
sermon. A month's seed bloomed in an ode. 

* Essay on Pope, i. 85. 



MEMOIR OF HERBERT. XXIX 

The 17th was the contradiction of the 19th cen- 
tury ; the object being then to give the most 
thought in the smallest space, as now to sow the 
widest field with the frugallest corn. Herbert's 
" Pilgrimage " is an example. Written, probably, 
before Bunyan was born, — certainly while he 
was an infant, — it contains all the Progress of 
the Pilgrim in outline. We are shown the gloomy 
Cave of Desperation, the Rock of Pride, the 
Mead of Fancy, the Copse of Care, the Wild 
Heath where the traveller is robbed of his gold, 
and the gladsome Hill that promises a fair pro- 
spect, but only yields a lake of brackish water 
on the top. Such a composition would scarcely 
escape the notice of that Spenser of the people, 
who afterwards gave breadth and animation and 
figures to the scene. 

The language of Herbert cannot be too highly 
praised. However distant the thought may be, 
the expression of it is, with very few exceptions, 
pure, racy, and idiomatic. He had evidently been 
a loving and a constant hearer or reader of Shak- 
spere, whose plays appeared in his childhood, and 
were doubtless the delight of his eyes during the 
short summer-day of his courtly hopes, and the 
frequent subject of talk at Wilton. Many pas- 
sages might be quoted ; but the Shaksperian tone 
will be recognized in the following : — 



XXX MEMOIR OF HERBERT. 

" How neatly do we give one only name 
To parent's issue, and the Sun's bright star! 
A son is light and fruit; a fniitful flame 
Chasing the father's dimness." 

And still more distinctly in the next : — 

" My comforts di-op and melt aAvay like snow ; 
I shake my head, and all the thoughts and ends 
"Which my fierce youth did bandy, fall and flow 
Like leaves about me, or, hke summer friends, 
Fhes of estate and smashiue." 

The beautiful phrase, " summer friends," was 
introduced by Gray into his Hymn on Adversity. 
Once more : — 

" Art thou a magistrate ? then be severe : 
If studious, copy fair what time hath blurred. 
Redeem Truth from his jaAvs; if soldier, 
Chase brave employments with a naked sword 
Throughout the world." 

Pages might easily be filled with instances of 
felicitous words and phrases. In the poem on 
Providence, we have the "leaning" elephant, 
afterwards exhibited by Thomson in his magni- 
ficent landscape : — 

" Peaceful, beneath primeval trees that cast 
Their ample shade o'er Niger's yellow stream, 
And where the Ganges rolls his sacred wave, 
High-raised in solemn theatre around. 
Leans the huge elephant." Summek, 721. 



MEMOIR OF HERBERT. XXXI 

Herbert's versification is frequently aflfected by 
his manner of thinking. The compression of 
thought causes harshness. Sometimes the rhythm 
drags with a slow, jolting, uneven step ; making 
the reader to remember "Walpole's criticism of an 
Ode, amended by Mason, which, he told him, had 
a sudden sink, like a man with one leg shorter 
than the other. But not seldom the harmony is 
soft and flowing, and lovely fancies are chanted to 
their own music. The " Flower," " Virtue," and 
" Gratefulness," are exquisite specimens of this 
class. 

The poetry and the prose of Herbert differ as 
much as Cowley's. He has not, indeed, left any 
composition to be compared with the delightful 
Essays ; but he possessed a large share of the 
same freshness, gaiety, and ease. If we had the 
manuscripts that perished in the flames of Highnam 
House, we might propose a nearer parallel. But 
Fuller justly pronounced even his remains to be 
shavings of gold. The '• Country Parson " is destined 
to live. Among the few English writings of a 
practical class, between 1600 and 1650, and yet 
retaining a reputation, Mr. Hallam* places this 
treatise of Herbert ; which he judges to be, " on 
the whole, a pleasing little book," but " with the 
precepts sometimes so overstrained, as to give an 
air of affectation." This is faint praise ; and the 

* Literature of Europe, iii. 129. 



XXXU MEMOIR OF HERBERT. 

censure is refuted by the work itself. The author 
informs us, that he wrote it with a view to his 
own spiritual improvement, drawing the form and 
character of a true pastor, that he might have a 
mark to aim at ; and setting it as high as he could, 
since " he shoots higher that threatens the moon, 
than he that aims at a tree." 

Herbert must be considered to have fulfilled his 
design. The epidemics of one age require a dif- 
ferent treatment from those of another. The cure 
of the past fails in the present. The popular dis- 
ease, in the former half of the 17th century, was 
the degraded condition of the country clergy. It 
had almost become chronic. There could be no 
instruction where there was no respect. Such 
shepherds neither guided nor fed their flocks. 
Herbert's object was twofold ; to raise the teacher, 
and to win the people : the former lesson he 
showed by precept, the second by example. He 
painted the portrait of the Good Parson, and was 
himself the original. His views of the pastoral 
office, even in the rudest country hamlet, were 
lofty and glowing ; and he recommended the study 
of Plato for the sake of acquiring the dexterity of 
Socrates, and applying it to the common inter- 
course and teaching of a parish. He was a burning 
and a shining light in his own time ; and he still 
sheds a softened lustre over ours. Such men 
ennoble their brethren, by their beautiful union 
of all that is practical, with whatever is graceful 



MEMOIR OF HERBERT. XXXlll 

in life. In them nothing is harsh or repulsive. 
The austere raiment is bound with a fair girdle. 
Sanderson sings psalms to his own music ; Ken 
warbles hymns before he sleeps ; Herbert delights 
to set anthems to his lute ; and Wotton bequeaths 
his viol to a friend. 

" could we copy their mild virtues ! then 
What joy to live, what blessedness to die? 
Methinks their very names shine still and bright; 
Apart, — like glow-worms on a summer night: 
Or lonely tapers, when from far they fling 
A guiding ray ; or seen, like stars on high, 
Satellites burning in a lucid ring." * 

* Wordsworth, iy. 131. 



THE TEMPLE 



THE DEDICATION. 

Lord, my first fruits present themselves to Thee; 
Yet not mine neither : for from Thee they came, 
And must return. Accept of them and me, 
And make us strive, who shall sing best Thy Name. 
Turn their eyes hither, who shall make a gain : 
Theirs, who shall hurt themselves or me, refrain. 



THE CHURCH PORCH. 

PEKIREHANTERIUM. 

Thou, whose sweet youth and early hopes en- 
hance 
Thy rate and price, and mark thee for a treasure, 
Hearken unto a verser, who may chance 
Rhyme thee to good, and make a bait of pleasure : 

A verse may find him, who a sermon flies. 

And turn delight into a sacrifice. 

Beware of lust ; it doth pollute and foul 
Whom God in Baptism wash'd with His own 
blood : 



2 Herbert's poems. 

It blots the lesson written in thy soul ; 

The holy lines cannot be understood. 
How dare those eyes upon a Bible look, 
Much less towards God, whose lust is all 
their book ! 

Wholly abstain, or wed. Thy bounteous Lord 

Allows thee choice of paths : take no by-ways ; 

But gladly welcome what He doth afford ; 

Not grudging, that thy lust hath bounds and 
stays. 
Continence hath his joy : weigh both ; and so 
If rottenness have more, let heaven go. 

If God had laid all common, certainly 
Man would have been the en closer : but since now 
God hath impaled us, on the contrary 
Man breaks the fence, and every ground will 
plough. 

O what were man, might he himself misplace ! 

Sure to be cross he would shift feet and face. 

Drink not the third glass, which thou canst not 

tame, 
Wlien once it is within thee ; but before 
Mayst rule it, as thou list : and pour the shame, 
Which it would pour on thee, upon the floor. 
It is most just to throw that on the ground, 
Which would throw me there, if I keep the 
round. 



THE CHURCH PORCH. 3 

He that is drunken may his mother kill, 
Big with his sister : he hath lost the reins, 
Is outlaw'd by himself; all kind of ill 
Did with his liquor slide into his veins. 

The drunkard forfeits Man, and doth divest 
All worldly right, save what he hath by beast. 

Shall I, to please another's wine-sprung mind. 
Lose all mine own ? God hath given me a measure 
Short of His can and body ; must I find 
A pain in that, wherein He finds a pleasure ? 
Stay at the third glass : if thou lose thy hold. 
Then thou art modest, and the wine grows 
bold. 

If reason move not gallants, quit the room ; 
(All in a shipwreck shift their several way ;) 
Let not a common ruin thee intomb : 
Be not a beast in courtesy, but stay, 

Stay at the third cup, or forego the place. 

Wine above all thmgs doth God's stamp de- 
face. 

Yet, if thou sin in wine or wantonness, 

Boast not thereof ; nor make thy shame thy 
glory. 

Frailty gets pardon by submissiveness ; 

But he that boasts, shuts that out of his story : 
He makes flat war with God, and doth defy 
With his poor clod of earth the spacious sky. 



'4 Herbert's poems. 

Take not His name, who made thy mouth, in 
vain ; 

It gets thee nothing, and hath no excuse. 

Lust and wine plead a pleasure, avarice gain : 

But the cheap swearer through his open sluice 
Lets his soul run for nought, as little fearing : 
Were I an epicure, I could bate swearing. 

When thou dost tell another's jest, tlierein 
Omit the oaths, which true wit cannot need : 
Pick out of tales the mirth, but not the sin. 
He pares his apple that will cleanly feed. 
Play not away the virtue of that name. 
Which is thy best stake, when griefs make 
thee tame. 

The cheapest sins most dearly punish'd are ; 

Because to shun them also is so cheap : 

For we have wit to mark them, and to spare. 

O crumble not away thy soul's fair heap ! 

If thou wilt die, the gates of hell are broad : 
Pride and full sins have made the way a road. 

Lie not ; but let thy heart be true to God, 
Thy mouth to it, thy actions to them both : 
Cowards tell lies, and those that fear the rod ; 
The stormy working soul spits lies and froth. 
Dare to be true. Nothing can need a lie : 
A fault, which needs it most, grows two there- 

by- 



THE CHURCH PORCH. 5 

Fly idleness, which yet thou canst not fly 
By dressing, mistressing, and compliment. 
If those take up thy day, the sun will cry 
Against thee ; for his light was only lent. 

God gave thy soul brave wings ; put not those 
feathers 

Into a bed, to sleep out all ill weathers. 

Art thou a magistrate ? then be severe : 
If studious, copy fair what time hath blurr'd ; 
Redeem truth from his jaws : if soldier, 
Chase brave employments with a naked sword 

Throughout the world. Fool not ; for all may 
have. 

If they dare try, a glorious life, or grave. 

O England ! full of sin, but most of sloth ; 
Spit out thy phlegm, and fill thy breast with glory : 
Thy gentry bleats, as if thy native cloth 
Transfused a sheepishness into thy story ; 
Not that they all are so ; but that the most 
Are gone to grass, and in the pasture lost. 

This loss springs chiefly from our education. 
Some till their ground, but let weeds choke their 

son : 
Some mark a partridge, never their child's fashion : 
Some ship tliem over, and the thing is done. 

Study this art, make it thy great design ; 

And if God's image move thee not, let thine. 



6 HERBERT S POEMS. 

Some great estates provide, but do not breed 
A mastering mind ; so both are lost thereby : 
Or else they breed them tender, make them need 
All that they leave : this is flat poverty. 

For he that needs five thousand pound to live, 
Is full as poor as he that needs but five. 

The way to make thy son rich, is to fill 
His mind with rest, before his trunk Avith riches : 
For wealth, without contentment, climbs a hill, 
To feel those tempests, which fly over ditches. 
But if thy son can make ten pound his meas- 
ure, 
Then all thou addest may be call'd his treas- 
ure. 

When thou dost purpose ought (within thy power), 
Be sure to do it, though it be but small : 
Constancy knits the bones, and makes us stour 
When wanton pleasures beckon us to thrall. 
Who breaks his own bond, forfeiteth himself: 
What nature made a ship, he makes a shelf. 

Do all things like a man, not sneakingly : 
Think the king sees thee still ; for liis King does. 
Simpering is but a lay-hypocrisy : 
Give it a corner, and the clue undoes. 
Who fears to do ill, sets himself a task : 
Who fears to do well, sure should wear a 
mask. 



THE CHURCH PORCH. 7 

Look to thy mouth : diseases enter there. 
Thou hast two sconces, if thy stomach call ; 
Cai've, or discourse ; do not a famine fear. 
Who carves, is kind to two ; who talks, to all. 

Look on meat, think it dirt, then eat a bit ; 

And say withal, Earth to earth I commit. 

Slight those who say amidst their sickly healths, 
Thou liv'st by rule. What doth not so but 

man? 
Houses are built by rule, and commonwealths. 
Entice the trusty sun, if that you can. 

From his ecliptic line ; beckon the sky. 

Wlio lives by rule then, keeps good company. 

Who keeps no guard upon himself, is slack. 
And rots to nothing at the next great thaw. 
Man is a shop of rules, a well-truss'd pack. 
Whose every parcel underwrites a law. 

Lose not thyself, nor give thy humors way : 
God gave them to thee under lock and key. 

By all means use sometimes to be alone. 
Salute thyself: see what thy soul doth wear. 
Dare to look in thy chest ; for 't is thine own : 
And tumble up and down what thou find'st 
there. 
Who cannot rest till he good fellows find. 
He breaks up house, turns out of doors his 
mind. 



8 Herbert's poems. 

Be thrifty, but not covetous : therefore give 

Thy need, thine honor, and thy friend his due. 

Never was scraper brave man. Get to live ; 

Then live, and use it : else, it is not true 
That thou hast gotten. Surely use alone 
Makes money not a contemptible stone. 

Never exceed thy income. Youth may make 
Even with the year : but age, if it will hit, 
Shoots a bow short, and lessens still his stake. 
As the day lessens, and his life with it. 

Thy children, kindred, friends upon thee 
call ; 

Before thy journey fairly part with all. 

Yet in thy thriving still misdoubt some evil ; 
Lest gaining gain on thee, and make thee dim 
To all things else. Wealth is the conjurer's 

devil ; 
Whom when he thinks he hath, the devil hath 
him. 
Gold thou mayst safely touch ; but if it stick 
Unto thy hands, it woundeth to the quick. 

What skills it, if a bag of stones or gold 

About thy neck to drown thee ? raise thy head ; 

Take stars for money ; stars not to be told 

By any art, yet to be purchased. 

None is so wasteful as the scraping dame : 
She loseth three for one ; her soul, rest, fame. 



THE CHURCH PORCH. 9 

By no means run in debt : take thine own meas- 
ure. 
Who cannot live on twenty pound a year, 
Cannot on forty : he 's a man of pleasure, 
A kind of thing that 's for itself too dear. 

The curious unthrift makes his clothes too wide, 
And spares himself, but would his tailor chide. 

Spend not on hopes. They that by pleading clothes 
Do fortunes seek, when worth and service fail. 
Would have their tale believed for their oaths. 
And are like empty vessels under sail. 

Old courtiers know this ; therefore set out so. 
As all the day thou mayst hold out to go. 

In clothes, cheap handsomeness doth bear the 
bell. 

Wisdom 's a trimmer thing, than shop e'er gave. 

Say not then, This with that lace will do well ; 

But, This Avith my discretion will be brave. 
Much curiousness is a perpetual wooing. 
Nothing with labor, folly long a doing. 

Play not for gain, but sport. Who plays for more 
Than he can lose with pleasure, stakes his heart : 
Perhaps his wife's, too, and whom she hath bore : 
Servants and churches also play their part. 
Only a herald, who that way doth pass, 
Finds his crack'd name at length in the Church- 
glass. 



10 Herbert's poems. 

If yet thou love game at so dear a rate, 
Learn this, that hath old gamesters dearly cost : 
Dost lose ? rise up : dost win ? rise in that state. 
Who strive to sit out losing hands, are lost. 
Game is a civil gunpowder, in peace 
Blowing up houses with their whole increase. 

In conversation boldness now bears sway. 

But know, that nothing can so foolish be, 

As empty boldness : therefore first assay 

To stuff thy mind with solid bravery ; 

Then march on gallant : get substantial worth : 
Boldness gilds finely, and will set it forth. 

Be* sweet to all. Is thy complexion sour ? 

Then keep such company ; make them thy allay : 

Get a sharp wife, a servant that will lour. 

A stumbler stumbles least in rugged way. 

Command thyself in chief. He life's war knows, 
Whom all his passions follow as he goes. 

Catch not at quaiTcls. He that dares not speak 
Plainly and home, is coward of the two. 
Think not thy fame at every twitch will break : 
By great deeds show that thou canst little do ; 

And do them not : that shall thy wisdom be ; 

And change thy temperance into bravery. 

If that thy fame with every toy be posed, 

'T is a thin web, which poisonous fancies make ; 



THE CHURCH PORCH. 11 

But the great soldier's honor was composed 
Of thicker stuff, which would endure a shake. 

Wisdom picks friends ; civility plays the rest. 

A toy shunn'd cleanly passeth with the best. 

Laugh not too much : the witty man laughs least : 
For wit is news only to ignorance. ; 

Less at thine own things laugh ; lest in the jest 
Thy person share, and the conceit advance. 
Make not thy sport, abuses : for the fly 
That feeds on dung is colored thereby. 

Pick out of mirth, like stones out of thy ground, 

Profaneness, filthiness, abusiveness. 

These are the scum with which coarse wits 

abound : 
The fine may spare these well, yet not go less. 
All things are big with jest : nothing that 's 

plain 
But may be witty, if thou hast the vein. 

Wit 's an unruly engine, wildly striking 
Sometimes a friend, sometimes the engineer : 
Hast thou the knack ? pamper it not with liking : 
But if thou want it, buy it not too dear. 
Many, affecting wit beyond their power, 
Have got to be a dear fool for an hour. 

A sad wise valor is the brave complexion, 
That leads the van, and swallows up the cities. 



12 Herbert's poems. 

The giggler is a milkmaid, whom infection, 
Or a fired beacon frighteth from his ditties. 

Then he 's the sport : the mii-th then in him 
rests. 

And the sad man is cock of all his jests. 

Towards great persons use respective boldness : 
That temper gives them theirs, and yet doth take 
Nothing from thine : in service, care, or coldness 
Doth ratably thy fortunes mar or make. 
Feed no man in his sins : for adulation 
Doth make thee parcel-devil in damnation. 

Envy not greatness : for thou makest thereby 
Thyself the worse, and so the distance greater. 
Be not thine own worm : yet such jealousy. 
As hurts not others, but may make thee better, 

Is a good spur. Correct thy passion's spite ; 

Then may the beasts draw thee to happy 
light. 

When baseness is exalted, do not bate 

The place its honor for the person's sake. 

The shrine is that which thou dost venerate ; 

And not the beast that bears it on his back. 
I care not though the cloth of state should be 
Not of rich arras, but mean tapestry. 

Thy friend put in thy bosom : wear his eyes 
Still in thy heart, that he may see what 's there. 



THE CHURCH PORCH. 13 

If cause require, thou art his sacrifice ; 

Thy drops of blood must pay down all his fear ; 

But love is lost ; the way of friendship 's gone ; 

Though David had his Jonathan, Christ his 
John. 

Yet be not surety, if thou be a father. 

Love is a personal debt. I cannot give 

My children's right, nor ought he take it : rather 

Both friends should die, than hinder them to live. 

Fathers first enter bonds to nature's ends ; 

And are her sureties, ere they are a friend's. 

If thou be single, all thy goods and ground 
Submit to love ; but yet not more than all. 
Give one estate, as one life. None is bound 
To work for two, who brought himself to thrall. 
God made me one man ; love makes me no more. 
Till labor come, and make my weakness score. 

In thy discourse, if thou desire to please ; 
All such is courteous, useful, new, or witty : 
Usefulness comes by labor, wit by ease ; 
Courtesy grows in court ; news in the city. 

Get a good stock of these, then draw the card ; 

That suits him best, of whom thy speech is 
heard. 

Entice all neatly to what they know best ; 
For so thou dost thyself and him a pleasure : 



14 Herbert's poems. 

(But a proud ignorance will lose his rest, 
Rather than show his cards ;) steal from his treas 
ure 
What to ask farther. Doubts well raised do lock 
The speaker to thee, and preserve thy stock. 

If thou be master-gunner, spend not all 
That thou canst speak, at once ; but husband it. 
And give men turns of speech : do not forestall 
By lavishness, thine own and other's wit. 
As if thou madest thy will. A civil guest 
Will no more talk all than eat all the feast. 

Be calm in arguing : for fierceness makes 

Error a fault, and truth discourtesy. 

Why should I feel another man's mistakes 

More than his sicknesses or poverty ? 
In love I should : but anger is not love, 
Nor wisdom neither ; therefore gently move. 

Calmness is great advantage : he that lets 
Another chafe, may warm him at his fire ; 
Mark all his wanderings, and enjoy his frets ; 
As cumiing fencers suffer heat to tire. 

Truth dwells not in the clouds : the bow that 's 
there 

Doth often aim at, never hit the sphere. 

Mark what another says : for many are 

Full of themselves, and answer their own notion. 



THE CHURCH PORCH. 15 

Take all into thee ; then with equal care 
Balance each dram of reason, like a potion. 
If truth be with thy friend, be with them both : 
Share in the conquest,, and confess a troth. 

Be useful where thou livest, that they may 
Both want, and wish thy pleasing presence still. 
Kindness, good parts, great places, are the way 
To compass this. Find out men's wants and will, 
And meet them there. All worldly joys go less 
To the one joy of doing kindnesses. 

Pitch thy behavior low, thy projects high ; 

So shalt thou humble and magnanimous be : . 

Sink 'not in spirit : who aimeth at the sky 

Shoots higher much than he that means a tree. 
A grain of glory mixt with humbleness 
Cures both a fever and lethargicness. 

Let thy mind still be bent, still plotting where, 
And when, and how the business may be done. 
Slackness breeds worms ; but the sure traveller, 
Though he alight sometimes, still goeth on. 
Active and stirring spirits live alone : 
Write on the others, Here lies such a one. 

Slight not the smallest loss, whether it be 
In love or honor ; take account of all : 
Shine like the sun in every corner : see 
Whether thy stock of credit swell, or fall. 



16 Herbert's poems. 

Who say, I care not, those T give for lost ; 
And to instruct them, 't will not quit the cost. 

Scorn no man's love, though of a mean degree ; 

(Love is a present for a mighty king,) 

Much less make any one thine enemy. 

As guns destroy, so may a little sling. 
The cunning workman never doth refuse 
The meanest tool, that he may chance to use. 

All foreign wisdom doth amount to this, 
To take all that given ; whether wealth, 
Or love, or language ; nothing comes amiss : 
A good digestion turneth all to health : 
And then, as far as fair behavior may, • 
Strike off all scores ; none are so clear as they. 

Keep all thy native good, and naturalize 
All foreign of that name ; but scorn their ill : 
Embrace their activeness, not vanities. 
Who follows all things, forfeiteth his will. 
If thou observest strangers in each fit. 
In time they '11 run thee out of all thy wit. 

Affect in things about thee cleanliness. 
That all may gladly board thee, as a flower. 
Slovens take up their stock of noisomeness 
Beforehand, and anticipate their last hour. 
Let thy mind's sweetness have his operation 
Upon thy body, clothes, and habitation. 



THE CHURCH PORCH. 17 

In alms regard thy means, and others* merit. 

Think Heaven a better bargain than to give 

Only thy single market-money for it. 

Join hands with God to make a man to live. 
Give to all something ; to a good poor man, 
Till thou change names, and be where he began. 

Man is God's image ; but a poor man is 
Christ's stamp to boot : both images regard. 
God reckons for him, counts the favor His : 
Write, So much given to God ; thou shalt be heard. 
Let thy alms go before, and keep Heaven's gate 
Open for thee ; or both may come too late. 

Restore to God His due in tithe and time : 

A tithe purloin'd cankers the whole estate. 

Sundays observe : think when the bells do chime. 

'T is angels' music ; therefore come not late. 
God then deals blessings : if a king did so. 
Who would not haste, nay give, to see the show ? 

Twice on the day His due is understood ; 

For all the week thy food so oft He gave thee. 

Thy cheer is mended ; bate not of the food. 

Because 't is better, and perhaps may save thee. 
Thwart not the Almighty God : O be not cross. 
Fast when thou wilt ; but then 't is gain, not loss. 

Though private prayer be a brave design, 
Yet public hath more promises, more love : 

6 



18 Herbert's poems. 

And love 's a weight to hearts, to eyes a sign. 
We all are but cold suitors ; let us move 

Where it is warmest. Leave thy six and 

seven ; 
Pray with the most : for where most pray, is 
Heaven. 

When once thy foot enters the church, be bare; 
God is more there than thou : for thou art there 
Only by His permission. Then beware, 
And make thyself all reverence and fear. 

Kneeling ne'er spoil'd silk stockings: quit thy 
state. 

All equal are within the church's gate. 

Resort to sermons, but to prayers most : 
Praying 's the end of preaching. O be drest ; 
Stay not for the other pin : why thou hast lost 
A joy for it worth worlds. Thus hell doth jest 
Away thy blessings, and extremely flout thee. 
Thy clothes bemg fast, but thy soul loose about 
thee. 

In time of service seal up botli thine eyes, 
And send them to thy heart ; that, spying sin, 
They may weep out the stains by them did 

rise : 
Those doors being shut, all by the ear comes in. 
Who marks in church -time other's symmetry, 
Makes all their beauty his deformity. 



THE CHURCH PORCH. 19 

Let vain or busy thoughts have there no part : 
Bring not thy plough, thy plots, thy pleasures 

thither. 
Christ purged His temple ; so must thou thy heart. 
All worldly thoughts are but thieves met to- 
getlier 
To cozen thee. Look to thy actions well ; 
For churches either are our Heaven or Hell. 

Judge not the preacher ; for he is thy judge : 
If thou mislike him, thou conceiv'st him not. 
God calleth preaching folly. Do not grudge 
To pick out treasures from an earthen pot. 

The worst speak something good: if all want 
sense, 

God takes a text, and preacheth patience. 

He that gets patience, and the blessing which 
Preachers conclude with, hath not lost his pains. 
He that by being at church escapes the ditch, 
Which he might fall in by companions, gains. 
He that loves God's abode, and to combine 
With saints on earth, shall one day with them 
shine. 

Jest not at preachers' language, or expression ; 
How know'st thou but thy sins made him mis- 
carry ? 
Then turn thy faults and his into confession : 
God sent him, whatsoe'er he be : O tarry, 



20 Herbert's poems. 

And love him for his Master : his condition, 
Though it be ill, makes him no ill physician. 

None shall in hell such bitter pangs endure 
As those who mock at God's way of salvation. 
Whom oil and balsams kill, what salve can cure ? 
They drink with greediness a full damnation. 

The Jews refused thunder ; and we, folly. 

Though God do hedge us in, yet who is holy ? 

Sum up at night what thou hast done by day ; 

And in the morning, what thou hast to do. 

Dress and undress thy soul : mark the decay 

And growth of it : if, with thy watch, that too 
'Be down, then wind up both : since we shall be 
Most surely judged, make thy accounts agree. 

In brief, acquit thee bravely ; play tlie man. 

Look not on pleasures as they come, but go. 

Defer not the least virtue : life's poor span 

Make not an ell, by trifling in thy woe. 
If thou do ill, the joy fades, not the pains : 
If well, the pain doth fade, the joy remains. 



THE CHURCH. 21 

THE CHURCH. 



SUPERLIMINARE. 

Thou, whom the former precepts have 
Sprmkled, and taught how to behave 
Tliyself in church ; approach, and taste 
The Church's mystical repast. 

Avoid, profaneness ! come not here. 
Nothing but holy, pure, and clear, 
Or that which groaneth to be so, 
May at his peril further go. 



THE ALTAR. 

A BROKEN altar, Lord, Thy servant rears, 
Made of a heart, and cemented with tears : 
Whose parts are as Thy hand did frame ; 
No workman's tool hath touch'd the same. 
• A Heart alone 

Is such a stone, 
As nothing but 
Thy power doth cut. 
Wherefore each part 
Of my hard heart 
Meets in this frame. 
To praise Thy name : 



22 Herbert's poems. 

That, If I chance to hold my peace, 
These stones to praise Thee may not cease. 
let thy blessed Sacrifice be mine, 
And sanctify this Altar to be Thine. 



THE SACRIFICE. 

O ALL ye, who pass by, whose eyes and mind 
To worldly things are sharp, but to Me blind ; 
To Me, who took eyes that I might you find : 
Was ever grief like Mine ? 

The princes of My people make a head 
Against their Maker : they do wish Me dead, 
Who cannot wish, except I give them bread : 
Was ever grief like Mine ? 

Without Me each one, who doth now Me brave, 
,Had to this day been an Egyptian slave. 
They use that power against Me, which I gave : 
Was ever grief like Mine ? 

Mine own apostle, who the bag did bear, 
Though he iiad all I had, did not forbear 
To sell Me also, and to put Me there : 

Was ever grief like Mine ? 



THE CHURCH. 23 

For thirty pence he did My death devise, 
Who at three hundred did the ointment prize, 
Not half so sweet as My sweet sacrifice : 

Was ever grief hke Mine ? 

Therefore My soul melts, and My heart's dear 

treasure 
Drops blood (the only beads) my words to measure : 
O let this cup pass, if it be Thy pleasure : 

Was ever grief like Mine ? 

These drops, being temper'd with a sinner's tears, 
A balsam are for both the hemispheres. 
Curing all wounds but Mine ; all, but My fears. 
Was ever grief like Mine ? 

Yet My disciples sleep : I cannot gain 
One hour of watching ; but their drowsy brain 
Comforts not Me, and doth My doctrine stain : . 
Was ever grief like Mine ? 

Arise, arise, they come. Look how they run ! 
Alas ! what haste they make to be undone ! 
How with their lanterns do they seek the sun ! 
Was ever grief like Mine ? 

With clubs and staves they seek Me, as a thief, 
Who am the way of truth, the true relief. 
Most true to those who are My greatest grief: 
Was ever grief like Mine ? 



24 Herbert's poems. 

Judas, dost thou betray Me with a kiss ? 
Canst thou find hell about My lips ? and miss 
Of life, just at the gates of life and bliss ? 

Was ever grief like Mine ? 

See, they lay hold on Me, not with the hands 
Of faith, but fury ; yet at their commands 
I suffer bindino;, who have loosed their bands : 
Was ever grief like Mine ? 



'O' 



All My disciples fly ; fear puts a bar 
Betwixt My friends and Me. They leave the star 
That brought the wise men of the east from far : 
Was ever grief like Mine ? 

Then from one ruler to another, bound, 
They lead Me : urging, that it was not sound 
What I taught: comments would the text con- 
found. 

Was ever grief like Mine ? 

The priests and rulers all false witness seek 
'Gainst Him, who seeks not life, but is the meek 
And ready Paschal Lamb of this great week : 
Was ever grief like Mine ? 

Then they accuse Me of great blasphemy, 
That I did thrust into the Deity, 
Who never thought that any robbery : 

Was ever grief like Mine ? 



THE CHURCH. 25 

Some said, that I the teraj)le to the floor 
In three days raz'd, and raised as before. 
"WTiy, He that built the world can do much 
more : 

Was ever grief like Mine ? 

Then they condemn Me all with that same breath, 
Which I do give them daily, unto death. 
Thus Adam My first breathing rendereth : 

Was ever grief like Mine ? 

They bind, and lead Me unto Herod : he 
Sends me to Pilate. This makes them ag-ree : 
But yet their friendship is My enmity. 

Was ever grief like Mine ? 

Herod and all his bands do set Me light, 
Who teach all hands to war, fingers to fight, 
And only am the Lord of hosts and might. 

Was ever grief like Mine ? 

Herod in judgment sits, while I do stand ; 
Examines me with a censorious hand: 
I him obey, who all things else command : 

Was ever grief like Mine ? 

The Jews accuse Me with despitefulness ; • 
And vying malice with My gentleness, 
Pick quarrels with their only happiness : 

Was ever grief like Mine ? 



26 Herbert's poems. 

I answer nothing, but with patience prove 
If stony hearts will melt with gentle love. 
But who does hawk at eagles with a dove ? 

Was ever grief like Mine? 

My silence rather doth augment their cry ; 
My Dove doth back into My bosom fly, 
Because the raging waters still are high : 

Was ever grief like Mine ? 

Hark how they cry aloud still, Crucify : 
It is not fit He live a day, they cry, 
Who cannot live less than eternally : 

Was ever grief like Mine ? 

Pilate, a stranger, holdeth off; but they, 
Mine own dear people, cry. Away, away. 
With noises confused frighting the day : 

Was ever grief like Mine ? 

Yet still they shout, and cry, and stop their ears, 
Putting My life among their sins and fears, 
And therefore wish My blood on them and theirs. 
Was ever grief like Mine ? 

See how spite cankers things. These words 

aright 
Used, and wish'd, are the whole world's delight : 
But honey is their gall, brightness their night : 
Was ever grief like Mine ? 



THE CHURCH. 27 

They choose a murderer, and all agree 

In him to do themselv es a courtesy ; 

For it was their own cause who killed Me : 

Was ever grief like Mme ? 

And a seditious murderer he was : 

But I the Prince of peace ; peace that doth 

pass 
All understanding, more than heaven doth glass : 
Was ever grief like Mine ? 

Why, Coesar is their only King, not I : 

He clave the stony rock, when they were dry ; 

But surely not their hearts, as I well try : 

Was ever grief like Mne ? 

Ah, how they scourge Me ! yet My tenderness 
Doubles each lash : and yet their bitterness 
Winds up My grief to a mysteriousness : 

Was ever grief like Mine ? 

They buffet Me, and box Me aS they list. 
Who grasp the earth and heaven with My fist. 
And never yet, whom I would j)unish, miss'd : 
Was ever grief like Mine ? 

Behold, they spit on Me in scornful wise ; 
Who by My spittle gave the blind man eyes. 
Leaving his blindness to Mine enemies : 

Was ever grief like Mine ? 



28 Herbert's poems. 

My face they cover, though it be divine. 
As Moses' face was veiled, so is Mine, 
Lest on their double-dark souls either shine : 

Was ever grief like Mine ? 

Servants and abjects flout Me ; they are witty ; 
Now prophesy who strikes Thee ! is their ditty. 
So they, in Me, deny themselves all pity : 

Was ever grief like Mine ? 

And now I am deliver'd unto death, 

Which each one calls for so with utmost breath, 

That he before Me wellnigh sufFereth : 

Was ever grief like Mine ? 

Weep not, dear friends, since I for both have wept, 
When all My tears were blood, the while you 

slept : 
Your tears for your own fortunes should be kept 
Was ever grief like Mine ? 

The soldiers lead Me to the common hall ; 
There they deride Me, they abuse Me all : 
Yet for twelve heavenly legions I could call : 

Was ever grief like Mine ? 

Then with a scarlet robe they Me array ; 
Which shows My blood to be the only way, 
And cordial left to repair man's decay : 

Was ever grief like Mine ? 



THE CHURCH. 29 

Then on My head a crown of thorns I wear ; 
For these are all the gi-apes Sion doth bear, 
Though I My vine planted and water'd there : 
Was ever grief like Mine ? 

So sits tlie earth's great curse in Adam's fall 
Upon My head : so I remove it all 
From the earth unto My brows, and bear the thrall : 
Was ever grief like Mine ? 

Then with the reed they gave to Me before, 
They strike My head, the Rock from whence all 

store 
Of heavenly blessings issue evermore : 

Was ever grief like Mine ? 

They bow their knees to Me, and cry. Hail, King : 
Whatever scoffs or scornfulness can bring, 
I am the floor, the sink, where they it fling : 

Was ever grief like Mine ? 

Yet since man's sceptres are as frail as reeds, 
And thorny all their crowns, bloody their weeds ; 
I, who am Truth, turn into truth their deeds : 
Was ever grief like Mine ? 

The soldiers also spit upon that face 
Which angels did desire to have the grace, 
And prophets once to see, but found no place : 
Was ever grief like Mine ? 



30 Herbert's poems. 

Thus trimmed forth they bring Me to the rout, 
Who, Crucify Him, cry with one strong shout. 
God holds His peace at man, and man cries 
out: 

Was ever grief like Mine ? 

They lead Me in once more, and putting then 
My own clothes on, they lead Me out again. 
Whom devils fly, thus is He toss'd of men : 

Was ever grief like Mine ? 

And now weaVy of sport, glad to engross 
All spite in one, counting My life their loss. 
They carry me to My most bitter cross : 

Was ever grief like Mine ? 

My cross I bear Myself, until I faint : 
Then Simon bears it for Me by constraint. 
The decreed burden of each mortal saint : 

Was ever grief like Mine ? 

O all ye who pass by, behold and see : 

Man stole the fruit, but I must climb the tree ; 

The tree of life to all, but only Me ; 

Was ever grief like Mine ? 

Lo, here 1 hang, charged with a world of sin, 
The greater world o' the two ; for that came in 
By words, but this by sorrow I must win : 

Was ever grief like Mine ? 



THE CHURCH. 31 

Such soiTOw, as if sinful man could feel, 
Or feel his part, he would not cease to kneel 
Till all were melted, though he were all steel. 
Was ever grief like Mine ? 

But, My God, My God! why leav'st Thou 

Me, 
The Son, in Whom Thou dost delight to be ? 

My God, My God 

Never was grief like Mine. 

Shame tears My soul, My body many a wound ; 
Sharp nails pierce this, but sharper that confound 
Reproaches, which are free, while I am bound : 
Was ever grief like Mine ? 

Now heal Thyself, Physician ; now come down. 
Alas ! I did so, when 1 left My crown 
And Father's smile for you, to feel His frown : 
Was ever grief like Mine ? 

In healing not Myself, there doth consist 
All that salvation, which ye now resist ; 
Your safety in My sickness doth subsist : 

Was ever grief like Mine ? 

Betwixt two thieves I spend My utmost breath, 
As he that for some robbery suflfereth. 
Alas ! what have I stolen from you ? death : 

Was ever grief like INIine ? 



32 Herbert's poems. 

A King my title is, prefix'd on high ; 
Yet by My subjects I 'm condemn'd to die 
A servile death in servile company : 

Was ever grief like Mine ? 

They gave Me vinegar mingled with gall, 

But more with malice : yet, when they did call, 

With manna, Angels' food, I fed them all : 

Was ever grief like Mine ? 

They part My gamients, and by lot dispose 

My coat, the type of love, which once cured those 

Who sought for help, never malicious foes : 

Was ever grief like Mine ? 

Nay, after deatli their spite shall further go ; 
For they will pierce My side, I full well know ; 
That as sin came, so Sacraments might flow : 
Was ever grief like Mine ? 

But now I die ; now all is finished. 

My woe, man's weal : and now I bow My head : 

Only let others say, when I am dead, 

Never was grief like Mine. 



THE CHURCH. 33 



THE THANKSGIVING. 

O King of grief! (a title strange, yet true, 

To Thee of all kings only due) 
King of wounds ! how shall I grieve for Thee, 

Who in all grief preventest me ? 
Shall I weep blood ? why. Thou hast wept such 
store, 

That all Thy body was one door. 
Shall I be scourged, flouted, boxed, sold ? 

'T is but to tell the tale is told. 
My God, My God, why dost Thou part from Me ? 

Was such a grief as cannot be. 
Shall I then sing, skipping Thy doleful story, 

And side with Thy triumphant glory ? 
Shall Thy strokes be my stroking ? thorns, my 
flower ? 

Thy rod, my posy ? cross, my bower ? 
But how then shall I imitate Thee, and 

Copy Thy fair, though bloody, hand ? 
Surely I will revenge me on Thy love. 

And try who shall victorious prove. 
If Thou dost give me wealth, I will restore 

All back unto Thee by the poor. 
If Thou dost give me honor, men shall see, 

The honor doth belong to Thee. 
3 



34 Herbert's poems. 

I will not marry ; or, if she be mine, 

She and her children shall be Thine. 
My bosom-friend, if he blaspheme Thy name, 

I will tear thence his love and fame. 
One half of me being gone, the rest I give 

Unto some chapel, die or live. 
As for Thy passion — but of that anon, 

When with the other I have done. 
For Thy predestination, I '11 contrive, 

That three years hence, if I survive, 
I '11 build a spital, or mend common ways, 

But mend my own without delays. 
Then I will use the works of Thy creation, 

As if I used them but for fashion. 
The world and I will quarrel ; and the year 

Shall not perceive that I am here. 
My music shall find Thee, and every string 

Shall have his attribute to sing ; 
That all together may accord in Thee, 

And prove one God, one harmony. 
If Thou shalt give me wit, it shall appear, 

If Thou hast given it me, 't is here. 
Nay, I will read Thy book, and never move 

Till I have found therein Thy love ; 
Thy art of love, which I '11 turn back on Thee, 

my dear Saviour, Victory ! 
Then for Thy passion — I will do for that — 

Alas, my God, I know not what. 



THE CHURCH. 35 



THE EEPRISAL. 



I HAVE consider'd it, and find 
There is no dealing with Thy mighty passion. 
For though I die for Thee, I am behind ; 

My sins deserve the condemnation. 

O make me innocent, that I 
May give a disentangled state and free ; 
And yet Thy wounds still my attempts defy, 

For by Thy death I die for Thee. 

Ah ! was it not enough that Thou 
By Thy eternal glory didst outgo me ? 
Couldst Thou not grief's sad conquests me allow, 

But in all victories overthrow me ? 

Yet by confession will I come 
Into the conquest. Though I can do nought 
Against Thee, in Thee I will overcome 

The man, who once against Thee fought. 



36 Herbert's poems. 



THE AGONY. 

Philosophers have measured mountains, 
Fathom'd the depths of seas, of states, and kings, 
Walk'd with a staff to heaven, and traced foun- 
tains : 

But there are two vast, spacious things. 
The which to measure it doth more behoove : 
Yet few there are that sound them : sin and love. 

Who would know sin, let him repair 
Unto mount Olivet ; there shall he see 
A Man so wrung with pains, that all His hair. 

His skin. His garments, bloody be. 
Sin is that press and vice, which forceth pain 
To hunt his cruel food through every vein. 

"Who knows not love, let him assay. 
And taste that juice, which on the cross a pike 
Did set again abroach ; then let him say 

If ever he did taste the like. 
Love is that liquor sweet and most divine, 
Which my God feels as blood, but I as wine. 



THE CHURCH. 37 



THE SINNER. 

Lord, how I am all ague, when I seek 
What I have treasured in my memory ! 
Since, if my soul make even with the week, 
Each seventh note by right is due to Thee. 
I find there quarries of piled vanities. 
But shreds of hoUness, that dare not venture 
To show their face, since cross to Thy decrees ; 
There the circumference earth is, heaven the 

centre. 
In so much dregs the quintessence is small : 
The spirit and good extract of my heart 
Comes to about the many hundredth part. 
Yet, Lord, restore Thy image, hear my call : 
And though my hard heart scarce to Thee can 

groan, 
Remember that Thou once didst write in stone. 



GOOD FRIDAY. 



O MY chief good. 
How shall I measure out Thy blood ? 
How shall I count what Thee befell, 

And each grief tell ? 



38 Herbert's poems. 

Shall I Thy woes 
Number according to Thy foes ? 
Or, since one star show'd Thy fu^st breath, 

ShaU aU Thy death ? 

Or shall each leaf, 
Which falls in autumn, score a grief? 
Or cannot leaves, but fruit, be sign 

Of the true vine ? 

Then let each hour 
Of my whole life one grief devour ; 
That Thy distress through all may run. 

And be my sun. 

Or rather let 
My several sins their sorrows get ; 
That, as each beast his cure doth know, 

Each sin may so. 

Since blood is fittest, Lord, to write 
Thy sorrows in, and bloody fight ; 
My heart hath store ; write there, where in 
One box doth lie both ink and sin : 

That when sin spies so many foes. 

Thy whips. Thy nails. Thy wounds. Thy woes. 

All come to lodge there, sin may say. 

No room for me, and fly away. 



THE CHURCH. , 39 

Sin being gone, oh fill the place, 
And keep possession with Thy grace ; 
Lest sin take courage and return, 
And all the writings blot or burn. 



REDEMPTION. 

Having been tenant long to a rich Lord, 
Not thriving, I resolved to be bold. 
And make a suit unto Him, to afford 

A new small-rented lease, and cancel the old. 

In heaven at His manor I Him sought : 

They told me there, that He was lately gone 
About some land, which He had dearly bought 

Long since on earth, to take possession. 

I straight return'd, and knowing His great birth, 
Sought Him accordingly in great resorts ; 
In cities, theatres, gardens, parks, and courts : 

At length I heard a ragged noise and mirth 

Of thieves and murderers : there I Him espied, 
Who straight, Your suit is granted, said, and 
died. 



40 Herbert's poems. 



SEPUI.CHKE. 

O BLESSED Body ! whither art Thou thrown ? 
No lodging for Thee, but a cold hard stone ? 
So many hearts on earth, and yet not one 

Receive Thee ? 

Sure there is room within our hearts' good store ; 
For they can lodge transgressions by the score : 
Thousands of toys dwell there, yet out of door 

They leave Thee. 

But that which shows them large, shows them unfit. 
Whatever sin did this pure rock commit, 
Which holds Thee now ? Who hath indicted it 

Of murder ? 

Where our hard hearts have took up stones to brain 

Thee, 
And missing this, most falsely did arraign Thee ; 
Only these stones in quiet entertain Thee, 

And order. 

And as of old the law, by heavenly art 
Was writ in stone, so Thou, wdiich also art 
The letter of the word, find'st no fit heart 

To hold Thee. 



THE CHURCH. 41 

Yet do we still persist as we began, 
And so should perish, but that nothing can. 
Though it be cold, hard, foul, from loving man 

Withhold Thee. 



EASTER. 

Rise, heart ; thy Lord is risen. Sing His praise 
Without delays, 

Who takes thee by the hand, that thou likewise 
With Him mayst rise : 

That, as His death calcined thee to dust. 

His life may make thee gold, and, much more, just. 

Awake, my lute, and struggle for thy part, 
With all thy art : 

The cross taught all wood to resound his name. 
Who bore the same. 

His stretched sinews taught all strings, what key 

Is best to celebrate this most high day. 

Consort both heart and lute, and twist a song 
Pleasant and long. 

Or since all music is but three parts vied, 
And multiplied ; 

let Thy blessed Spirit bear a part, 

And make up our defects with His sweet art. 



42 Herbert's poems. 

I GOT me flowers to strew Thy way ; 
I got me boughs off many a tree : 
But Thou wast up by break of day, 
And broughtst thy sweets along with Thee. 

The sun arising in the east, 

Though he give light, and the east perfume 

If they should offer to contest 

With Thy arising, they presume. 

Can there be any day but this. 
Though many suns to shine endeavor ? 
We count three hundred, but we miss : 
There is but one, and that one ever. 



EASTER WINGS. 

Lord, who createdst man in wealth and store. 
Though foolishly he lost the same, 
Decaying more and more. 
Till he became 
Most poor : 

With Thee 
O let me rise 
As larks, harmoniously, 
And sing this day Thy victories : 
Then shall the fall further the flisrht in me. 



THE CHURCH. 43 

My tender age in sorrow did begin : 
And still with sicknesses and shame 
Thou didst so punish sin, 
That I became 
Most thin. 

With Thee 
Let me combine, 
And feel this day Thy victory, 
For, if I imp my wing on Thine, 
Affliction shall advance the flight in me. 



HOLY BAPTISM. 

As he that sees a dark and shady grove. 
Stays not, but looks beyond it on the sky ; 
So when I view my sins, mine eyes remove 

More backward still, and to that water fly. 

Which is above the heavens, whose spring and vent 
Is in my dear Redeemer's pierced side. 
O blessed streams ! either ye do prevent 

And stop our sins from growing thick and wide. 

Or else give tears to drown them, as they grow. 
In you Redemption measures all my time, 
And spreads the plaster equal to the crime : 

You taught the book of life my name, that so, 



44 Herbert's poems. 

Whatever future sins should me miscall, 
Your first acquaintance might discredit all. 



HOLY BAPTISM. 

Since, Lord, to Thee 
A narrow way and little gate 
Is all the passage, on my infancy 

Thou didst lay hold, and antedate 
My faith in me. 

O let me still 
Write Thee great God, and me a child : 
Let me be soft and supple to thy will, 
Small to myself, to others mild, 
Behither ill. 

Although by stealth 
My flesh get on ; yet let her sister. 
My soul, bid nothing, but preserve her wealth 
The growth of flesh is but a blister ; 

Childhood is health. 



THE CHURCH. 45 



NATURE. 



Full of rebellion, I would die, 
Or figlit, or travel, or deny, 
That Thou hast aught to do with me. 
O tame my heart ; 
It is Thy highest art 
To captivate strongholds to Thee. 

If Thou shalt let this venom lurk, 
And in suggestions fume and work. 
My soul will turn to bubbles straight. 
And thence by kind 
Vanish into a wind. 
Making Thy workmanship deceit. 

O smooth my rugged heart, and there 
Engrave Thy reverend law and fear ; 
Or make a new one, since the old 

Is sapless grown, 
And a much fitter stone 
To hide my dust than Thee to hold. 



46 Herbert's poems. 



SIN. 



Lord, with what care hast Thou begirt us round, 
Parents first season us : then schoolmasters 
Deliver us to laws ; they send us bound 

To rules of* reason, holy messengers, 

Pulpits and Sundays, sorrow dogging sin. 
Afflictions sorted, anguish of all sizes, 
Fine nets and stratagems to catch us in, 

Bibles laid open, millions of surprises. 

Blessings beforehand, ties of gratefulness. 
The sound of glory ringing in our ears ; 
Without, our shame ; within, our consciences ; 

Angels and grace, eternal hopes and fears. 

Yet all these fences and their whole array 
One cunning bosom-sin blows quite away. 



AFFLICTION. 

When first Thou didst entice to Thee my heart, 
I thought the service brave : 

So many joys I writ down for my part, 

Besides what I might have 



THE CHURCH. 47 

but of my stock of natural delights, 
Augmented witli Thy gracious benefits. 

I looked on Thy furniture so fine, 

And made it fine to me ; 

Thy glorious household-stuff did me entwine, 
And 'tice me unto Thee. 

Such stars I counted mine : both heaven and earth 

Paid me my wages in a world of mirth. 

What pleasures could I want whose King I served. 
Where joys my fellows were ? 

Thus argued into hopes, my thoughts reserved 
No place for grief or fear ; 

Therefore my sudden soul caught at the place, 

And made her youth and fierceness seek Thy face. 

At first Thou gav'st me milk and sweetnesses ; 

I had my wish and way : 
My days were strew'd with flowers and happiness ; 

There was no month but May. 
But with my years sorrow did twist and grow, 
And made a party unawares for woe. 

My flesh began unto my soul in pain. 

Sicknesses clave my bones. 

Consuming agues dwell in every vein, 

And tune my breath to groans : 

Sorrow was all my soul ; I scarce believed, 

Till grief did tell me roundly, that I lived. 



48 Herbert's poems. 

When I got health, Thou took'st away my life, 

And more ; for my friends die : 

My mirth and edge was lost ; a blunted knife 
Was of more use than I. 

Thus thin and lean, without a fence or friend, 

I was blown through with every storm and wind. 

Whereas my birth and spirit rather took 

The way that takes the town ; 

Thou didst betray me to a lingering book. 

And wrap me in a gown. 

I was entangled in the world of strife, 

Before I had the power to change my life. 

Yet, for I threaten'd oft the siege to raise, 

Not simpering all mine age, 

Thou often didst with academic praise 

Melt and dissolve my rage. 

I took Thy sweeten'd pill, till I came near ; 

I could not go away, nor persevere. 

Yet lest perchance I should too happy be 
In my unhappiness. 

Turning my purge to food. Thou throwest me 
Into more sicknesses. 

Thus doth Thy power cross-bias me, not making 

Thine own gift good, yet me from my ways taking. 

Now I am here, wliat Thou wilt do wdth me 

None of my books will show : 



THE CHURCH. 49 

I read, and sigh, and wish I were a tree ; 

For sure then I should grow 
To fruit or shade : at least some bird would trust 
Her household to me, and I should be just. 

Yet, though Thou troublest me, I must be meek ; 

In weakness must be stout ; 
Well, I will change the service, and go seek 

Some other master out. 
Ah, my dear God ! though I am clean forgot. 
Let me not love Thee, if I love Thee not. 



REPENTANCE. 

Lord, I confess my sin is great ; 
Great is my sin. O gently treat 
With Thy quick flower. Thy momentary bloom 

Whose life still pressing 

Is one undressing, 
A steady aiming at a tomb. 

Man's age is two hours' work, or three ; 
Each day doth round about us see. 
Thus are we to delights ; but we are all 

To sorrows old. 

If life be told 
From what life feeleth, Adam's fall. 



50 Herbert's poems. 

let Thy height of mercy then 
Compassionate short-breathed men : 
Cut me not off for my most foul transgression : 

I do confess 

My foolishness ; 
My God, accept of my confession. 

Sweeten at length this bitter bowl, 
Which Thou hast pour'd into my soul ; 
Thy wormwood turn to health, winds to fair 
weather : 

For if Thou stay, 
I and this day, 
As we did rise, we die together. 

When Thou for sin rebukest man, 
Forthwith he waxeth woe and wan : 
Bitterness fills our bowels ; all our hearts 

Pine, and decay, 

And drop away, 
And carry with them the other parts. 

But Thou wilt sin and grief destroy ; 
That so the broken bones may joy, 
And tune together in a well-set song, 

Full of His praises ^ 

Who dead men raises. 
Fractures well cured make us more strong. 



THE CHURCH. 51 



FAITH. 



Lord, how couldst Thou so much appease 
Thy wrath for sin, as when man's sight was dim, 
And could see little, to regard his ease, 

And bring by Faith all things to him ? 

Hungry I was, and had no meat : 
I did conceit a most delicious feast ; 
I had it straight, and did as truly eat 

As ever did a welcome guest. 

There is a rare outlandish root, 
Which when I could not get, I thought it here : 
That apprehension cured so well my foot, 

That I can walk to heaven well near. 

I owed thousands and much more : 
I did believe that I did nothing owe. 
And lived accordingly ; my creditor 

Believes so, too, and lets me go. 

Faith makes me anything, or all 
That I believe is in the sacred story : 
And when sin placeth me in Adam's fall, 

Faith sets me higher in his glory. 



52 Herbert's poems. 

If I go lower in the book, 
What can be lower than the common manger ? 
Faith puts me there with Him, who sweetly took 

Our flesh and frailty, death and danger. 

If bhss had lien in art or strength, 
None but the wise and strong had gain'd it : 
Where now by Faith all arms are of a length ; 

One size doth all conditions fit. 

A peasant may believe as much 
As a great clerk, and reach the highest stature. 
Thus dost Thou make proud knowledge bend and 
crouch. 

While grace fills up uneven nature. 

When creatures had no real light 
Inherent in them, Thou didst make the sun 
Impute a lustre, and allow them bright : 

And in this show what Christ hath done. 

That which before was darkened clean 
With bushy groves, pricking the looker's eye, 
Vanish'd away, when Faith did change the scene : 

And then appear'd a glorious sky. 

What though my body run to dust ? 
Faith cleaves unto it, counting every grain. 
With an exact and most particular trust. 

Reserving all for flesh again. 



THE CHURCH. 53 



PRAYER. 

Prayer, the Church's banquet, Angel's age, 
God's breath in man returning td his birth, 
The soul in paraphrase, heart in pilgrimage. 

The Christian plummet sounding heaven and 
earth ; 

Engine against the Almighty, sinner's tower. 
Reversed thunder, Christ-side-piercing spear. 
The six-days'-world transposing in an hour, 

A kind of tune, which all things hear and fear ; 

Softness, and peace, and joy, and love, and bliss, 
Exalted manna, gladness of the best, 
Heaven in ordinary, man well drest. 

The milky way, the bird of Paradise, 

Church-bells beyond the stars heard, the soul's 

blood. 
The land of spices, something understood. 



HOLY COMMUNION. 

Not in rich furniture, or fine array, 
Nor in a wedge of gold. 
Thou, who from me wast sold, 
To me dost now Thyself convey ; 



64 Herbert's poems. 

For so Thou shouldst without me still have been, 
Leaving within me sin : 

But by the way of nourishment and strength, 
Thou creep'st into my breast ; 
Making Thy way my rest. 
And Thy small quantities my length ; 

Which spread their forces into every part. 
Meeting sin's force and art. 

Yet can these not get over to my soul. 

Leaping the wall that parts 

Our souls and fleshly hearts ; 
But as the out-works, they may control 
My rebel-flesh, and, carrying Thy name, 

Affright both sin and shame. 

Only Thy grace, which with these elements comes, 

Knoweth the ready way, 

And hath the privy key. 
Opening the soul's most subtile rooms : 
Wliile those to spirits refined, at door attend 

Despatches from their friend. 



Give me my captive soul, or take 
My body also thither. 

Another lift like this will make 
Them both to be together. 



THE CHURCH. 55 



Before that sin turn'd flesh to stone, 
And all our lump to leayen ; 

A fervent sidi miojht well have blown 
Our innocent earth to heaven. 



For sure, when Adam did not know 
To sin, or sin to smother, 

He might to heaven from Paradise go, 
As from one room to another. 

Thou hast restored us to this ease 
By this Thy heavenly blood. 

Which I can go to when I please, 

And leave the earth to their food. 



ANTIPHON. 

CHORUS. 

Let all the world in every corner sing, 
My God and King. 

VERSE. 

The heavens are not too high, 
His praise may thither fly : 
The earth is not too low, 
His praises there may grow. 

CHORUS. 

Let all the world in every corner sing, 
My God and King. 



5Q Herbert's poems. 



The Church with psalms must shout, 
No door can keep them out : 
But, above all, the heart 
Must bear the longest part. 

CHORUS. 

Let all the world in every corner sing, 
My God and King. 



LOVE. 



I. 
Immortal Love, author of this great frame, 

Sprung from that beauty which can never fade ; 

How hath man parcel'd out thy glorious name, 
And thrown it on that dust which thou hast made, 

While mortal love doth all the title gain ! 
Which siding with invention, they together 
Bear all the sway, possessing heart and brain, 

(Thy workmanship) and give thee share in neither. 

Wit fancies beauty, beauty raiseth wit : 

The world is theirs ; they two play out the game. 
Thou standing by : and though thy glorious name 

Wrought out deliverance from the infernal pit. 



Who sings thy praise ? only a scarf or glove 
1 wan 
love. 



Doth warm our hands, and make them write of 



THE CHURCH. 57 

II. 

Immortal Heat, O let thy greater flame 
Attract the lesser to it : let those fires 
Which shall consume the world, first make it 
tame, 

And kindle in our hearts such true desires, 

As may consume our lusts, and make thee way. 

Then sliall our hearts pant thee ; then shall our 
brain 

All her inventions on thine altar lay. 
And there in hymns send back thy fire again : 

Our eyes shall see thee, which before saw dust ; 
Dust blown by wit till that they both were blind: 
Thou shalt recover all thy goods in kind. 

Who wert disseized by usurping lust : 

All knees shall bow to thee ; all w^its shall rise. 
And praise Him who did make and mend our 
eyes. 



THE TEMPER. 

How should I praise Thee, Lord ! how should my 

rhymes 
Gladly engrave Thy love in steel. 
If what my soul doth feel sometimes, 

My soul might ever feel ! 



58 Herbert's poems. 

Although there were some forty heavens, or more, 
Sometimes I peer above them all ; 
Sometimes I hardly reach a score, 
Sometimes to hell I fall. 

rack me not to such a vast extent ; 
Those distances belong to Thee : 
The world 's too little for Thy tent, 
A grave too big for me. 

Wilt Thou meet arms with man, that Thou dost 
stretch 
A crumb of dust from heaven to hell ? 
Will great God measure with a wretch ? 
Shall He thy stature spell ? 

O let me, when Thy roof my soul hath hid, 
O let me roost and nestle there : 
Then of a sinner Thou art rid, 
And I of hope and fear. 

Yet take Thy way ; for sure Thy way is best : 
Stretch or contract me, Thy poor debtor : 
This is but tuning of my breast. 
To make the music better. 

Whether I fly with angels, fall with dust, 
Thy hands made both, and I am there. 
Thy power and love, my love, and trust. 
Make one place everywhere. 



THE CHURCH. 59 



THE TEMPER. 



It cannot be. Where is that mighty joy, 
Which just now took up all my heart ? 
Lord ! if Thou must needs use Thy dart, 

Save that, and me ; or sin for both destroy. 

The grosser world stands to Thy word and art ; 
But Thy diviner world of grace 
Thou suddenly dost raise and race. 

And every day a new Creator art. 

O fix Thy chair of grace, that all my powers 
May also fix their reverence : 
For when Thou dost depart from hence. 

They grow unruly, and sit in Thy bowers. 

Scatter, or bind them all to bend to Thee : 
Though elements change, and heaven move. 
Let not Thy higher court remove. 

But keep a standing Majesty in me. 



JORDAN. 

Who says that fictions only and false hairs 
Become a verse ? Is there in truth no beauty ? 
Is all good structure in a winding stair ? 
May no lines pass, except they do their duty 
Not to a true, but painted chair ? 



60 Herbert's poems. 

Is it not verse, except enchanted groves 
And sudden arbors shadow coarse-spun Hues ? 
Must purhng streams refresh a lover's loves ? 
Must all be veil'd, while he that reads, divines, 
Catching the sense at two removes ? 

Shepherds are honest people ; let them sing : 
Riddle who list, for me, and pull for prime. 
I envy no man's nightingale, or spring ; 
Nor let them punish me M^ith loss of rhyme, 
Who plainly say, " My God, my King." 



EMPLOYMENT. 

If, as a flower doth spread and die. 
Thou wouldst extend me to some good. 
Before I were by frost's extremity 

Nipt in the bud ; 

The sweetness and the praise were Thine ; 
But the extension and the room. 
Which in Thy garland I should fill, were mine 
At Thy great doom. 

For as Thou dost impart Thy grace. 
The greater shall our glory be. 
The measure of our joys is in this place. 

The stuff with Thee. 



THE CHURCH. 61 

Let me not languish then, and spend 
A life as barren to Thy praise 
As is the dust to which that life doth tend, 
But with delays. 

All things are busy ; only I 
Neither bring honey with the bees, 
Nor flowers to make that, nor the husbandry 
To water these. 
• 
I am no link of Thy gi'eat chain, 
But all my company is a weed. 
Lord, place me in Thy concert ; give one strain 
To my poor need. 



THE HOLY SCRIPTURES. 

PART I. 

Oh Book ! infinite sweetness ! let my heart 
Suck every letter, and a honey gain, 
Precious for any grief in any part ; 

To clear the breast, to mollify all pain. 

Thou art all health, health thriving, till it make 

A full eternity : thou art a mass 

Of strange delights, where we may wish and 
take. 
Ladies, look here ; this is the thankful glass. 



62 Herbert's poems. 

That mends the looker's eyes : this is the well 
That washes what it shows. Who can endear 
Thy praise too much ? thou art lieaven's lieger 
here, 

Working against the states of death and hell. 

Thou art joy's handsel : heaven lies flat in thee, 
Subject to every mounter's bended knee. 

• PAUT II. 

Oh that I knew how all thy lights combine, 
And the configurations of their glory ! 
Seeing not only how each verse doth shine, 

But all the constellations of the story. 

This verse marks that, and both do make a motion 
Unto a third, that ten leaves off doth lie : 
Then as dispersed herbs do watch a potion. 

These three make up some Christian's destiny. 

Such are thy secrets, which my life makes good, 
And comments on thee : for in everything 
Thy w^ords do find me out, and parallels bring, 

And in another make me understood. 

Stars are poor books, and oftentimes do miss : 
This book of stars lights to eternal bliss. 



THE CHURCH. 63 



WHITSUNDAY. 



Listen, sweet Dove, unto my song, 
And spread Thy golden wings in me ; 
Hatching my tender heart so long, 
Till it get wing, and fly away with Thee. 

Where is that fire which once descended 
On Thy Apostles ? Thou didst then 
Keep open house, richly attended. 
Feasting all comers by twelve chosen men. 

Such glorious gifts Thou didst bestow, 
That the earth did like a heaven appear : 
The stars were coming down to know 
If they might mend their wages, and serve here. 

The sun, which once did sliine alone. 
Hung down his head, and wished for night, 
When he beheld twelve suns for one 
Going about the world, and giving light. 

But since those pipes of gold, which brought 
That cordial water to our ground, 
Were cut and martyr'd by the fault 
Of those who did themselves through their side 
wound ; 



64 Herbert's poems. 

Thou shutt'st the door, and keep'st within ; 
Scarce a good joy creeps through the chink : 
And if the braves of conquering sin 
Did not excite Thee, we should wholly sink. 

Lord, though we change, Thou art the same ; 
The same sweet God of love and light : 
Restore this day, for Thy great Name, 
Unto his ancient and miraculous right. 



GRACE. 



My stock lies dead, and no increase 
Doth my dull husbandry improve : 
O let Thy graces without cease 

Drop from above ! 

If still the sun should hide his face, 
Thy house would but a dungeon prove, 
Thy works night's captives : O let grace 
Drop from above ! 

The dew doth every morning fall ; 
And shall the dew outstrip Thy Dove ? 
The dew, for which grass cannot call, 
Drop from above. 

Death is still working like a mole. 
And digs my grave at each remove : 



THE CHURCH. 65 

Let gi'ace work too, and on my soul 
Drop from above. 

Sin is still hammering my heiu't 
Unto a hardness void of love : 
Let suppling grace, to cross his art, 
Drop from above. 

O come ! for Thou dost know the way 
Or if to me Thou wilt not move, 
Remove me where I need not say — 
" Drop from above." 



PRAISE. 

To write a verse or two, is all the praise 
That I can raise : 
Mend my estate in any ways, 
Thou shalt have more. 

I go to Church ; help me to wings, and I 
Will tWther fly ; 
Or, if I mount unto the sky, 
I will do more. 

Man is all weakness ; there is no such thing 
As prince or king ; 
His arm is short ; yet with a sling 
He may do more. 

E 



66 Herbert's poems. 

A herb distill'd, and drunk, may dwell next door, 
On the same floor, 
To a brave soul : exalt the poor, 
They can do more. 

O raise me then ! Poor bees, that work all day, 
Sting my delay. 
Who have a work, as well as they, 
And much, much more. 



AFFLICTION. 

Kill me not every day, 
Thou Lord of life ! since Thy one death for me 
Is more than all my deaths can be, 

Though I in broken pay 
Die over each hour of Methusalem's stay. 

If all men's tears were let 
Into one common sewer, sea, and brine ; 

What were they all, compared to Thine ? 

Wherein if they were set. 
They would discolor Thy most bloody sweat. 

Thou art my grief alone ; 
Thou, Lord, conceal it not : and as Thou art 
All my delight, so all my smart : 

Thy cross took up in one, 
By way of imprest, all my future moan. 



THE CHURCH. G7 



MATmS. 



I CANNOT ope mine eyes, 
But Thou art ready there to catch 
My morning-soul and sacrifice : 
Then we must needs for that day make a match. 

My God, what is a heart ? 
Silver, or gold, or precious stone. 
Or star, or rainbow, or a part 
Of all these things, or all of them in one ? 

My God, what is a heart, 
That Thou shouldst it so eye, and woo, 
Pouring upon it all Thy art, 
As if that Thou hadst nothing else to do ? 

Indeed, man's whole estate 
Amounts (and richly) to serve Thee : 
He did not heaven and earth create. 
Yet studies them, not Him by whom they be. 

Teach me Thy love to know ; 
That this new light, which now I see, 
May both the work and workman show : 
Then by a sunbeam I will climb to Thee. 



68 Herbert's poems. 



SIN. 

O THAT I could a sin once see ! 
We paint the devil foul, yet he 
Hath some good in him, all agree. 
Sin is flat opposite to the Almighty, seeing 
It wants the good of virtue, and of being. 

But God more care of us hath had : 
If apparitions make us sad. 
By sight of sin we should grow mad. 
Yet as in sleep we see foul death, and live, 
So devils are our sins in prospective. 



EVEN-SONG. 

Blest be the God of love. 
Who gave me eyes, and light, and power this day, 
Both to be busy and to play. 
But much more blest be God above. 

Who gave me sight alone. 
Which to Himself He did deny : 
For when He sees my ways, I die : 
But I have got His vSon, and He hath none. 



THE CHURCH. 69 

What have I brought Thee home 
For this Thy love ? Have I discharged the debt, 
Which this day's favor did beget ? 
I ran ; but all I brought was foam. 

Thy diet, care, and cost 
Do end in bubbles, balls of wind ; 
Of wind to Thee whom I have crost, 
But balls of wild-fire to my troubled mind. 

Yet still Thou goest on. 
And now with darkness closest weary eyes. 
Saying to man, " It doth suffice : 
Henceforth repose ; your work is done." 

Thus in Thy ebony box 
Thou dost inclose us, till the day 
Put our amendment in our way. 
And give new wheels to our disorder'd clocks. 

I muse, which shows more love, 
The day or night : that is the gale, this the harbor ; 
That is the walk, and this the arbor ; 
Or that the garden, this the gi'ove. 

My God, Thou art all love. 
Not one poor minute 'scapes thy breast, 
But brings a favor from above ; 
And in this love, more than in bed, I rest. 



70 Herbert's poems. 



CHUKCH MONUMENTS. 

"While that my soul repairs to her devotion, 
Here I intomb my flesh, that it betimes 
May take acquaintance of this heap of dust ; 
To which the blast of deatli's incessant motion, 
Fed with the exhalation of our crimes, 
Drives all at last. Therefore I gladly trust 

My body to this school, that it may learn 
To spell his elements, and find his birth 
Written in dusty heraldry and lines ; 
Which dissolution sure doth best discern, 
Comparing dust with dust, and earth with earth. 
These laugh at jet, and marble put for signs, 

To sever the good-fellowship of dust, 
And spoil the meeting. ' What shall point out them, 
When they shall bow, and kneel, and fall down flat 
To kiss those heaps, which now they have in trust ? 
Dear flesh, while I do pray, learn here thy stem 
And true descent ; that, when thou shalt grow fat, 

And wanton in thy cravings, thou may'st know. 
That flesh is but the glass, which holds the dust 
That measures all our time ; which also shall 
Be crumbled into dust. Mark, here below. 
How tame these ashes are, how free from lust. 
That thou may'st fit thyself against thy fall. 



THE CHURCH. 71 

CHURCH MUSIC. 

Sweetest of sweets, I thank you : when displeas- 
ure 
Did through my body wound my mind, 
You took me thence ; and in your house of pleas- 
ure 
A dainty lodging me assign'd. 

Now I in you without a body move. 

Rising and falling with your wings : 

We both together sweetly live and love, 

Yet say sometimes, " God help poor kings ! " 

Comfort, I '11 die ; for if you post from me, 
Sure I shall do so, and much more : 

But if I travel in your company. 

You know the way to heaven's door. 



CHURCH LOCK AND KEY 

I KNOW it is my sin, which locks Thine ears. 

And binds Thy hands ! 
Out-crying my requests, drowning my tears ; 
Or else the chillness of my faint demands. 

But as cold hands are angry with the fire. 
And mend it still, 



72 Herbert's poems. 

So I do lay the want of my desire, 

Not on my sins, or coldness, but Thy will. 

Yet hear, God, only for His blood's sake, 

Which pleads for me : 
For though sins plead too, yet like stones they 

make 
His blood's sweet current much more loud to be. 



THE CHURCH-FLOOR. 

Mark you the floor ? That square and speckled 
stone. 
Which looks so firm and strong. 
Is Patience : 

And the other black and grave, wherewith each 
one 
Is checker'd all along, 

Humility : 

The gentle rising, which on either hand 
Leads to the choir above. 

Is Confidence: 

But the sweet cement, which in one sure band 
Ties the whole frame, is Love 
And Charity. 



THE CHURCH. 73 

Hither sometimes Sin steals, and stains 
The marble's neat and curious veins : 

But all is cleansed when the marble weeps. 
Sometimes Death, puffing at the door, 
Blows all the dust about the floor : 

But while he thinks to spoil the room, he sweeps. 
Blest be the Architect, whose art 
Could build so strono- in a weak heai't. 



THE WINDOWS. 

Lord, how can man preach Thy eternal word ? 
He is a brittle, crazy glass : 

Yet in Thy temple Thou dost him afford 
This glorious and transcendent place, 
To be ^ window, through Thy grace. 

But when Thou dost anneal in glass Thy story, 
Making Thy life to shine within 

The holy preachers, then the light and glory 
More reverend grows, and more doth win ; 
Which else shows waterish, bleak, and thin. 

Doctrine and life, colors and light, in one 
Wlien they combine and mingle, bring 

A strong regard and awe : but speech alone 
Doth vanish like a flaring thing, 
And in the ear, not conscience ring. 



74 Herbert's poems. 



TRINITY SUNDAY. 



Lord, who hast form'd me out of mud. 
And hast redeem'd me through Thy blood, 



And sanctified me to do good 



Purge all my sins done heretofore ; 
For I confess my heavy score, 
And I will strive to sin no more. 

Enrich my heart, mouth, hands, in me, 
With faith, with hope, with charity ; 
That I may run, rise, rest with Thee. 



CONTENT. 

Peace, muttering thoughts, and do not grudge to 
keep 

Within the walls of your own breast : 
Who cannot on his own bed sweetly sleep. 

Can on another's hardly rest. 

Gad not abroad at every quest and call 
Of an untrained hope or passion: 

To court each place or fortune that doth fall, 
Is wantonness in contemplation. 



THE CHURCH. 75 

Mark how the fire in flints doth quiet lie, 
Content and warm to itself alone : 

But when it "would appear to other's eye, 
Without a knock it never shone. 

Give me the pliant mind, whose gentle measure 
Complies and suits with all estates ; 

Which can let loose to a crown, and yet with 
pleasure 
Take up within a cloister's gates. 

This soul doth span the world, and hang con- 
tent 

From either pole unto the centre : 
Where in 'each room of the well-furnish'd tent 

He lies warm, and without adventure. 

The brags of life are but a nine days' wonder : 
And, after death, the fumes that spring 

From private bodies, make as big a thunder 
As those which rise from a huse kinsf. 

Only thy chronicle is lost ; and yet 

Better by worais be all once spent. 

Than to have hellish moths still gnaw and fret 
Thy name in books, which may not vent. 

When all thy deeds, whose brunt thou feel'st 
alone. 
Are chaw'd by others' pens and tongue, 



76 Herbert's poems. 

And as their wit is, (their digestion,) 

Thy nourish'd fame is weak or strong. 

Then cease discoursing, soul ; till thine own 
ground ; 

Do not thyself or friends importune. . 
He that by seeking hath himself once found, 

Hath ever found a happy fortune. 



THE QUIDDITY. 

My God, a verse is not a crown ; 
No point of honor, or gay suit ; 
No hawk, or banquet, or renown ; 
Nor a good sword, nor yet a lute. 

It cannot vault, or dance, or play ; 
It never was in France or Spain ; 
Nor can it entertain the day 
With a great stable or domain. 

It is no office, art, or news ; 
Nor the exchange or busy hall : 
But it is that which while I use, 
I am with Thee, and " Most take all." 



THE CHURCH. 



HUMILITY. 



I SAW the Virtues sitting hand in hand 

In several ranks upon an azure throne, 

Where all the beasts and fowls, by their command. 

Presented tokens of submission. 

Humility, who sat the lowest there 

To execute their call, 
When by the beasts the presents tender'd were, 

Gave them about to all. 

The angry Lion did present his paw, 
Which by consent was given to Mansuetude. 
The fearful Hare her ears, which by their law 
Humility did reach to Fortitude. 
The jealous Turkey brought his coral chain. 

That went to Temperance. 
On Justice was bestow'd the Fox's brain, 

Kill'd in the way by chance. 

At length the Crow, bringing the Peacock's plume, 
(For he would not,) as they beheld the grace 
Of that brave gift, each one began to fume, 
And challenge it, as proper to his place. 
Till they fell out : which when the beasts espied. 

They leapt upon the throne ; 
And if the Fox had lived to rule their side, 

They had deposed each one. 



78 Herbert's poems. 

Humility, who held the plume, at this 
Did weep so fast, that the tears trickling down 
Spoil'd all the train : then saying, " Here it is 
For which ye wrangle," made them turn their 

frown 
Against the beasts : so jointly bandying. 

They drive them soon away ; 
And then amerced them, double gifts to bring 
At the next session-day. 



FRAILTY. 

Lord, in my silence how do I despise 

What upon trust 
Is styled honor, riches, or fair eyes ; 
But is — fair dust ! 
I surname them gilded clay. 
Dear earth, fine grass or hay ; 
In all, I think my foot doth ever tread 
Upon their head. 

But when I view abroad both regiments. 

The world's, and Thine ; 
Thine clad with simpleness, and sad events ; 
The other fine, 
Full of glory and gay weeds. 
Brave language, braver deeds : 
That which w^as dust before, doth quickly rise, 
And prick mine eyes. 



THE CHURCH. 79 

O brook not this, lest if what even now 

My foot did tread, 
Affront those joys wherewith Thou didst endow, 
And long since wed, 
My poor soul, e'en sick of love ; 
It may a Babel prove, 
Commodious to conquer heaven and Thee 
Planted in me. 



CONSTANCY. 

Who is the honest man ? 
He that doth still and strongly good pursue, 
To God, his neighbor, and himself most true : 

Whom neither force nor fawning can 
Unpin, or wrench from giving all their due. 

Whose honesty is not 
So loose or easy, that a ruffling wind 
Can blow away, or glittering look it blind : 

Who rides his sure and even trot. 
While the world now rides by, now lags behind. 

Who, when great trials come. 
Nor seeks, nor shuns them ; but doth calmly stay, 
Till he the thing and the example weigh : 

All being brought into a sum. 
What place or person calls for, he doth pay. 



80 Herbert's poems. 

Whom none can work or woo, 
To use in anything a trick or sleight ; 
For above all things he abhors deceit : 

His words and works and fashion too 
All of a piece, and all are clear and straight. 

Who never melts or thaws 
At close temptations : when the day is done, 
His goodness sets not, but in dark can run : 

The sun to others writeth laws, 
And is their virtue ; virtue is his sun. 

Who, when he is to treat 
With sick folks, women, those whom passions sway, 
Allows for that, and keeps his constant way ; 

Whom others' faults do not defeat ; 
But though men fail him, yet his part doth play. 

Whom nothing can procure, 
When the wide world runs bias, from his will 
To writhe his limbs, and share, not mend the ill. 

This is the marksman, safe and sure. 
Who still is right, and prays to be so still. 



AFFLICTION. 

My heart did heave, and there came forth, O God ! 
By that I knew that Thou wast in the grief, 
To guide and govern it to my relief, 



THE CHURCH. 81 

Making a sceptre of the rod : 
Hadst Thou not had Thy part, 
Sure the unruly sigh had broke my heart. 

But since Thy breath gave me both life and shape, 
Thou know'st my tallies ; and when there's assign'd 
So much breath to a sigh, what 's then behind ? 
Or if some years with it escape, 
The sigh then only is 
A gale to bring me sooner to my bliss. 

Thy life on earth was grief, and Thou art still 
Constant unto it, making it to be 
A point of honor, now to grieve in me, 
And in Thy members suffer ill. 
They who lament one cross. 
Thou dying daily, praise Thee to Thy loss. 



THE STAR. 

Bright spark, shot from a brighter place, 
Where beams surround my Saviour's face. 
Canst thou be anywhere 
So well as there ? 

Yet, if thou wilt from thence depart, 
Take a bad lodging in my heart ; 
For thou canst make a debtor, 
And make it better. 



82 HEBBEKTS POEM?. 

First with thy fire- work bum to dust 
Folly, and worse than folly, lust : 
Then with thy light refine. 
And make it shine. 

So. disengaged from sin and sickness, 
Touch it with thy celestial quickness, 
That it may hang and move 
After thy love. 

Then, with onr triuity of light. 

Motion, and heat, let 's take onr flight 
Unto the place where thou 
Before didst bow. 

Get me a standing there, and place 
Among the beams which crown the face 
Of Him who died to part 
Sin and my heart : 

That so among the rest I may 

GHtter. and curL and wind as they : 
That winding is their fashion 
Of adoration. 

Sure thou wilt joy by gaining me 
To fly home like a hiden bee 
Unto that hive of beams 
And srarland-streams. 



THE CHURCH. 83 



SUNDAY. 



O DAT most calm, most bright ! 
The finiit of this, the next world's bud, 
The indorsement of supreme delight, 
Writ by a Friend, and with His blood ; 
The couch of time ; care's balm and bay ; 
The week were dark, but for thy light : 

Thy torch doth show the way. . 

The other days and thou 
Make up one man ; whose face thou art, 
Knocking at heaven with thy brow : 
The worky-days are the back- part; 
The burden of the week lies there, 
Making the whole to stoop and bow, 

Till thy release appear. 

Man had straight forward gone 
To endless death ; but thou dost pull 
And turn us round to look on One, 
Whom, if we were not very dull. 
We could not choose but look on still ; 
Since there is no place so alone 

The which He doth not fill. 

Sundays the pillars are, 
On which heaven's palace arched lies : 



84 heebert's poems. 

The other days fill up the spare 
And hollow room with vanities. 
They are the fruitful beds and borders 
In God's rich garden : that is bare 

Which parts their ranks and orders. 

The Sundays of man's life, 
Threaded together on time's string, 
Make bracelets to adorn the wife 
Of the eternal glorious King. 
On Sunday heaven's gate stands ope ; 
Blessings are plentiful and rife. 

More plentiful than hope. 

This day my Saviour rose, 
And did enclose this light for His : 
That, as each beast his manger knows, 
Man might not of his fodder miss. 
Christ hath took in this piece of ground. 
And made a garden there for those 

Who want herbs for their wound. 

The Rest of our creation 
Our great Redeemer did remove 
With the same shake which, at His passion, 
Did the earth and all things with it move. 
As Samson bore the doors away, 
Christ's hands, though nail'd, wrought our sal- 
vation. 

And did unhinge that day. 



THE CHURCH. 85 

The brightness of that day 
"We sullied by our foul offence : 
Wherefore that robe we cast away, 
Having a new at His expense, 
Whose drops of blood paid the full price 
That was required to make us gay. 

And fit for Paradise. 

Thou art a day of mirth : 
And, where the week-days trail on ground, 
Thy flight is higher, as thy birth. 
O let me take thee at the bound. 
Leaping with thee from seven to seven. 
Till that we both, being toss'd from earth, 

Fly hand in hand to heaven ! 



AVAEICE. 

Money, thou bane of bliss, and source of woe, 
Whence comest thou, that thou art so fresh and 

fine? 
I know thy parentage is base and low : 

Man found thee poor and dirty in a mine. 

Sure thou didst so little contribute 

To this great kingdom, which thou now hast got, 
That he was fain, when thou wast destitute. 

To dig thee out of thy dark cave and grot. 



86 Herbert's poems. 

Then forcing thee, by fire he made thee bright : 
Nay, thou hast got the face of man ; for we 
Have with our stamp and seal transferr'd our 
right : 

Thou art the man, and man but dross to thee. 

Man calleth thee his wealth, who made thee rich ; 
And while he digs out thee, falls in the ditch. 



ANA-S^R^iSJiGRAM. 



How well her name an Army doth present. 
In whom the Lord of Hosts did pitch His 
tent! 



TO ALL ANGELS AND SAINTS. 

O GLORIOUS spirits, who, after all your bands, 
See the smooth face of God, without a frown, 

Or strict commands ; 
Where every one is king, and hath his crown, 
If not upon his head, yet in his hands : 

Not out of envy or maliciousness 

Do I forbear to crave your special aid. 

I would address 
My vows to thee most gladly, blessed Maid, 
And Mother of my God, in my distress. 



THE CHURCH. 87 

Thou art the holy mine, whence came the gold, 
The' great restorative for all decay- 
In young and old ; 
Thou art the cabinet where the jewel lay : 
Chiefly to thee would I my soul unfold. 

But now, alas ! I dare not ; for our King, 
Whom we do all jointly adore and praise, 

Bids no such thing : 
And where His pleasure no injunction lays, 
('T is your own case,) ye never move a wing. 

All worship is prerogative, and a flower 

Of His rich crown, from whom Hes no appeal 

At the last hour : 
Therefore we dare not from His garland steal. 
To make a posy for inferior power. 

Although, then, others court you, if ye know 
What 's done on earth, we shall not fare the worse. 

Who do not so : 
Since we are ever ready to disburse, 
If any one our Master's hand can show. # 



EMPLOYMENT. 



He that is weary, let him sit. 
My soul would stir 



88 Herbert's poems. 

And trade in courtesies and wit, 

Quitting the fur 
To cold complexions needing it. 

Man is no star, but a quick coal 

Of mortal lire : 
Who blows it not, nor doth control 

A faint desire, 
Lets his own ashes choke his soul. 

When the elements did for place contest 
With Him, whose will 

Ordain'd the highest to be best, 
The earth sat still, 

And by the others is opprest. 

Life is a business, not good cheer ; 

Ever in Avars. 
The sun still shineth there or here, 

Whereas the stars 
Watch an advantage to appear. 

« that I were an orange-tree, 
That busy plant ! 

Then should I ever laden be. 
And never want 

Some fruit for Him that dresseth me. 

But we are still too young or old ; 
The man is gone 



THE CHURCH. 89 



Before we do our wares unfold : 

So we freeze on, 
Until the jrrave increase our cold. 



DENIAL. 

When my devotions could not pierce 
Thy silent ears, 
Then was my heart broken, as was my verse ; 
My breast was full of fears 
And disorder. 

My bent thoughts, like a brittle bow, 
Did fly asunder : 
Each took his way ; some would to pleasures go. 
Some to the wars and thunder 
Of alarms. 

As good go anywhere, they say, 
As to benumb 
Both knees and heart, in crying night and day, 
" Come, come, my God, O come ! " 
But no hearing. 

0, that Thou shouldst give dust a tongue 
To cry to Thee, 
And then not hear it crying ! all day long 
My heart was in ray knee. 
But no hearmo;. 



90 Herbert's poems. 

Therefore my soul lay out of sight, 
Untuned, unstrung : 
My feeble spirit, unable to look right, 
Like a nipt blossom, hung 
Discontented. 

cheer and tune my- heartless breast ; 
Defer no time ; 
That so Thy favors granting my request, 
They and my mind may chime, 

And mend my rhyme. 



CHRISTMAS. 

All after pleasures as I rid one day. 

My horse and I, both tired, body and mind, 
With full cry of affections, quite astray, 

I took up in the next inn I could find. 

There, when I came, wliom found I but my dear, 
My dearest Lord, expecting till the grief 
Of pleasures brought me to Him, ready there 

To be all passengers' most sweet relief? 

O Thou, whose glorious, yet contracted light, 
Wrapt in night's mantle, stole into a manger ; 
Since my dark soul and brutish is Thy right, 

To man, of all beasts, be not thou a stranger. 



THE CHURCH. 91 

Furnish and deck my soul, that Thou may'st have 
A better lodofino; than a rack or j^rave. 



The shepherds sing ; and shall I silent be ? 

My God, no hymn for Thee ? • 

My soul 's a shepherd too : a flock it feeds 

Of thoughts, and words, and deeds. 
The pasture is Thy word ; the streams, Thy grace, 

Enriching all the place. 
Shepherd and flock shall sing, and all my powers 

Out-sing the daylight hours. 
Then we will chide the sun for letting night 

Take up his place and right : 
We sing one common Lord ; wherefore he should 

Himself the candle hold. 
I will go searching, till I find a sun 

Shall stay, till we have done ; 
A willing shiner, that shall shine as gladly, 

As frost-nipt suns look sadly. 
Then we will sing and shine all our own day. 

And one another pay : 
His beams shall cheer my breast, and both so twine, 
Till even his beams sing, and my music shine. 



UNGRATEFULNESS. 

Lord, with what bounty and rare clemency 
Hast Thou redeem'd us from the grave ! 



92 



HERBERT S POEMS. 



If Thou hadst let us run, 
Gladly had man adored the sun, 

And thought his god most brave ; 
Where now we shall be better gods than he. 

Thou hast but two rare cabinets full of treasure, 
The Trinity and Incarnation : 

Thou hast unlock'd them both, 
And made them jewels to betroth 
The work of Thy creation 
Unto Thyself in everlasting pleasure. 

The statelier cabinet is the Trinity, 

Whose sparkling light access denies : 

Therefore Thou dost not show 
This fully to us, till death blow 
The dust into our eyes ; 
For by that powder thou wilt make us see. 

But all Thy sweets are pack'd up in the other ; 
Thy mercies thither flock and flow ; 

That, as the first affrights. 
This may allure us with delights ; 
Because this box we know ; 
For we have all of us just such another. 

But man is close, reserved, and dark to Thee ; 
When Thou demandest but a heart, 

He cavils instantly. 
In his poor cabinet of bone 



THE CHURCH. 93 

Sins have their box apart, 
Defrauding Thee, who gavest two for one. 



SIGHS AND GROANS. 

O DO not use me 
After my sins ! look not on my desert. 
But on Thy glory ! then Thou wilt reform, 
And not refuse me : for Thou only art 
The mighty God, but I a silly worm. 

do not bruise me ! 

O do not urge me ! 
For what account can Thy ill steward make ? 
I have abused Thy stock, destroy'd Thy woods, 
Suck'd all Thy magazines : my head did ache, 
Till it found out how to consume Thy goods. 

O do not scourge me ! 

do not blind me ! 
I have deserved that an Egyptian night 
Should thicken all my powers ; because my lust 
Hath still sew'd fig-leaves to exclude Thy light : 
But I am frailty, and already dust : 

O do not grind me ! 

O do not fill me 
With the turn'd vial of Thy bitter wrath ! 
For Thou hast other vessels full of blood, 



94 Herbert's poems. 

A part whereof my Saviour emptied hath, 
Even mito death : since He died for my good, 
O do not kill me ! 

But 0, reprieve me ! 
For Thou hast life and death at Thy command ; 
Thou art both Judge and Saviour, feast and rod. 
Cordial and corrosive : put not Thy hand 
Into the bitter box ; but, O my God, 

My God, relieve me. 



THE WOELD. 

Love built a stately house ; where Fortune came : 
And spinning fancies she was heard to say. 
That her fine cobwebs did support the frame. 
Whereas they were supported by the same : 
But Wisdom quickly swept them all away. 

Then Pleasure came, who, liking not the fashion, 
Began to make balconies, terraces. 
Till she had weaken'd all by alteration : 
But reverend laws, and many a proclamation 
Reformed all at length with menaces. 

Then enter'd Sin, and with that sycamore. 
Whose leaves first shelter' d man from drought 
and dew. 



THE CHURCH. 95 

Working and winding slily evermore, 

The inward walls and summers cleft and tore : 

But Grace shored these, and cut that as it grew. 

Then Sin combined with Death in a firm band, 
To raze the building to the very floor : 
Which they effected, none could them withstand. 
But Love and Grace took Glory by the hand, 
And built a braver palace than before. 



OUR LIFE IS HID WITH CHRIST IN GOD. 

COLOSSIANS HI. 3. 

My words and thoughts do both express this 

notion, 
That Life hath with the sun a double motion. 
The first Is straight, and our diurnal friend ; 
The other Hid, and doth obliquely bend. 
One life is wrapt In flesh, and tends to earth : 
The other winds towards Him, whose happy birth 
Taught me to live here so, That still one eye 
Should aim and shoot at that which Is on high ; 
Quitting with daily labor all My pleasure, 
To gain at harvest an eternal Treasure. 



96 



HERBERT S POEMS. 



VANITY. 



The fleet astronomer can bore 
And thread the spheres with his quick-piercing 

mind : 
He views their stations, walks from door to door, 

Surveys, as if he had design'd 
To make a purchase there : he sees their dances, 

And knoweth, long before. 
Both their full-ey'd aspects and secret glances. 

The nimble diver with his side 
Cuts through the working waves, that he may 

fetch 
His dearly earned pearl, which God did hide 
On purpose from the venturous wretch ; 
That He might save his life, and also hers. 

Who with excessive pride 
Her own destruction and his danger wears. 

The subtile chymic can divest 
And strip the creature naked, till he find 
The callow principles within their nest : 

There he imparts to them his mind, 
Admitted to their bed-chamber, before 

They appear trim and drest 
To ordinary suitors at the door. 



THE CHURCH. 97 

What hath not man sought out and found, 
But his dear God ? who yet His glorious law 
Embosoms in us, mellowing the ground 

With showers and frosts, with love and awe ; 
So that we need not say. Where 's this command ? 

Poor man ! thou searchest round 
To find out death, but missest life at hand. 



LENT. 



Welcome, dear feast of Lent : who loves not 

thee. 
He loves not temperance, or authority. 

But is composed of passion. 
The Scriptures bid us fast ; the Church says, now : 
Give to thy mother what thou wouldst allow 

To every corporation. 

The humble soul, composed of love and fear. 
Begins at home, and lays the burden there, 

When doctrines disagree : 
He says, in things which use hath justly got, 
" I am a scandal to the Church," and not 

" The Church is so to me." 

True Christians should be glad of an occasion 
To use their temperance, seeking no evasion, 
When sood is seasonable ; 



98 Herbert's poems. 

Unless authority, which should increase 
The obligation in us, make it less, 
And power itself disable. 

Besides the cleanness of sweet abstinence, 
Quick thoughts and naotions at a small expense, 

A face not fearing light : 
Whereas in fulness there are sluttish fumes, 
Sour exhalations, and dishonest rheums. 

Revenging the delight. 

Then those same pendent profits, which the spring 
And Easter intimate, enlarge the thing, 

And goodness of the deed. 
Neither ought other men's abuse of Lent 
Spoil the good use ; lest by that argument 

We forfeit all our creed. 

'T is true, we cannot reach Christ's fortieth day ; 
Yet to go part of that religious way 

Is better than to rest : 
We cannot reach our Saviour's purity ; 
Yet are Ave bid, " Be holy e'en as He." 

In both let 's do our best. 

Who goeth in the way which Christ hath gone, 
Is much more sure to meet with Him, than one 

That travelleth by-ways. 
Perhaps my God, though He be far before, 
May turn, and take me by the hand, and more, 

May strengthen my decays. 



THE CHURCH. 99 

Yet, Lord, instruct us to improve our fast 
By starving sin, and taking such repast 

As may our faults control : 
That every man may revel at his door, 
Not in his parlor ; banqueting the poor, 

And among those his soul. 



VIRTUE. 

Sweet Day, so cool, so calm, so bright, 
The bridal of the earth and sky. 
The dew shall weep thy fall to-night ; 
For thou must die. 

Sweet Rose, whose hue, angry and brave, 
Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, 
Thy root is ever in its grave. 

And thou must die. 

Sweet Spring, full of sweet days and roses, 
A box where sweets compacted lie, 
My music shows ye have your closes, 
And all must die. 

Only a sweet and virtuous soul. 
Like season'd timber, never gives ; 
But though the whole world turn to coal, 
Then chiefly lives. 



100 Herbert's poems. 



THE PEARL. 

MATT. XIII. 



I KNOW the ways of Learning ; both the head 
And pipes that feed the press, and make it run ; 
What reason hath from nature borrowed, 
Or of itself, like a good housewife, spun 
In laws and policy ; what the stars conspire, 
What willing nature speaks, what forced by fire ; 
Both the old discoveries, and the new-found seas, 
The stock and surplus, cause and history : 
All these stand open, or I have the keys : 

Yet I love Thee. 

I know the ways of Honor, what maintains 
The quick returns of courtesy and wit : 
In vies of favors whether party gains. 
When glory swells the heart, and mouldeth it 
To all expressions both of hand and eye, 
Which on the world a true-love knot may tie, 
And bear the bundle, wheresoever it goes : 
How many drams of spirit there must be 
To sell my life unto my friends or foes : 

Yet I love Thee. 

I know the ways of Pleasure, the sweet strains, 
The lullings and the relishes of it ; 
The propositions of hot blood and brains ; 
What mirth and music mean ; what love and wit 



THE CHURCH. 101 

Have done these twenty hundred years, and more : 
I know the projects of unbridled store : 
My stuff is flesh, not brass ; my senses live, 
And grumble oft, that they have more in me 
Than he that curbs them, being but one to five : 
Yet I love Thee. 

I know all these, and have them in my hand : 
Therefore not sealed, but with open eyes 
I fly to Thee, and fully understand 
Both the main sale, and the commodities ; 
And at what rate and price I have Thy love ; 
With all the circumstances that may move : 
Yet through the labyrinths, not my grovelling wit, 
But Thy silk-twist let down from h'eaven to me, 
Did both conduct and teach me how by it 

To climb to Thee. 



AFFLICTION. 

Broken in pieces all asunder, 
Lord, hunt me not, 
A thing forgot. 
Once a poor creature, now a wonder ; 
A wonder tortured in the space 
Betwixt this world and that of grace. 



102 Herbert's poems. 

My thoughts are all a case of knives, 

Wounding my heart 

With scatter'd smart ; 

As watering-pots give flowers their lives. 

Nothing their fury can control. 

While they do wound and prick my soul. 

All my attendants are at strife, 
Quitting their place 
Unto my face : 
Nothing performs the task of life : 

The elements are let loose to fight, 
And while I live, try out their right. 

O help, my God ! let not their plot 
KJill them and me, 
And also Thee, 
Who art my life : dissolve the knot, 
As the sun scatters by his light 
All the rebelHons of the night. 

Then shall those powers, which work for grief. 
Enter Thy pay. 
And day by day 
Labor Thy praise and my relief : 

With care and courage building me, 

Till I reach heaven, and, much more. Thee. 



THE CHURCH. 



MAN. 



103 



My God, I heard this day, 
That none doth build a stately habitation 
But he that means to dwell therein. 
What house more stately hath there been, 
Or can be, than is Man ? to whose creation 
All things are in decay. 

For Man is everything, 
And more : he is a tree, yet bears no fruit ; 
A beast, yet is, or should be more : 
Reason and speech we only bring. 
Parrots may thank us, if they are not mute, 
They go upon the score. 

Man is all symmetry. 
Full of proportions, one limb to another, 
And all to all the world besides : 
Each part may call the farthest, brother : 
For head with foot hath private amity, 
And both w^ith moons and tides. 

Nothing hath got so far. 
But Man hath caught and kept it, as his prey. 
His eyes dismount the highest star : 
He is in little all the sphere. 
Herbs gladly cure our flesh, because that they 
Find their acquaintance there. 



104 Herbert's poems. 

For lis the winds do blow ; 
The earth doth rest, heaven move, and fountains 
flow. 
Nothing we see but means our good, 
As our delight, or as our treasure : 
The whole is, either our cupboard of food, 
Or cabinet of pleasure. 

The stars have us to bed ; 
Night draws the curtain, which the sun with- 
draws : 
Music and light attend our head. 
All things unto our flesh are kind 
In their descent and being ; to our mind 
In their ascent and cause. 

Each thing is full of duty : 
Waters united are our navigation ; 
Distinguished, om' habitation ; 
Below, our drink ; above, our meat : 
Both are our cleanliness. Hath one such beauty ? 
Then how are all things neat ! 

More servants wait on Man 
Than he '11 take notice of: in every path 

He treads down that which doth befriend 

him. 
When sickness makes him pale and wan. 
Oh mighty love ! Man is one world, and hath 
Another to attend him. 



THE CHURCH. 105 

Since tlien, my God, Tlion hast 
So brave a palace built ; dwell in it, 
That it may dwell with Thee at last ! 
Till then, afford us so much wit, 
That, as the world serves us, we may serve Thee, 
And both Thy servants be. 



ANTIPHON. 

Chor. Praised be the God of love, 
Men. Here below. 
Angels. And here above ; 

Chor. Who hath dealt His mercies so, 
Ang. To His friend. 
Men. And to His foe ; 



Chor. That both grace and glory tend 
Ang. Us of old. 
Men. And us in the end. 

Chor. The great Shepherd of the fold 
Ang. Us did make, 
Men. For us was sold. 

Chor. He our foes in pieces brake : 
Ang. Him we touch ; 
Men. And Him we take. 

Chor. Wherefore since that He is such, 
Ang. We adore, 
Men. And we do crouch. 



106 Herbert's poems. 

Chor. Lord, Thj praises shall be more. 
Men. We have none, 
Ang. And we no store. 

Chor. Praised be the God alone 

Who hath made of two folds one. 



UNKINDNESS. 

Lord, make me coy and tender to offend : 
In friendship first, I think, if that agree, 
Which I intend. 
Unto my friend's intent and end. 
I would not use a friend as I use Thee. 

If any touch my friend, or his good name, 
It is my honor and my love to free 
His blasted fame 
From the least spot or thought of blame. 
I could not use a friend as I use Thee. 

My friend may spit upon my curious floor : 
Would he have gold ? I lend it instantly ; 
But let the poor. 
And Thou within them, starve at door. 
I cannot use a friend as I use Thee. 

When that my friend pretendeth to a place, 
I quit my interest, and leave it free : 

But when Thy grace 



THE CHURCH. 107 

Sues for my heart, I Thee displace ; 
Nor would I use a friend as I use Thee. 

Yet can a friend what Thou hast done fulfil ? 
O write in brass, " My God upon a tree 
His blood did spill, 
Only to purchase my good-will : 
Yet use I not my foes as I use Thee." 



LIFE. 



I MADE a posy, while the day ran by : 
Here will I smell my remnant out, and tie 

My life within this band. 
But time did beckon to the flowers, and they 
By noon most cunningly did steal away. 

And wither'd in my hand. 

My hand was next to them, and then my heart ; 
I took, without more thinking, in good part 

Time's gentle admonition ; 
Wlio did so sweetly death's sad taste convey, 
Making my mind to smell my fatal day. 

Yet sugaring the suspicion. 

Farewell, dear flowers, sweetly your time ye 

spent. 
Fit, while ye lived, for smell or ornament, 



108 Herbert's poems. 

And after death for cures. 
I follow straight without complaints or grief, 
Since if my scent be good, I care not if 

It be as short as yours. 



SUBMISSION. 

But that Thou art my wisdom, Lord, 
And both mine eyes are Thine, 

My mind would be extremely stirr'd 
For missing my design. 

Were it not better to bestow 

Some place and power on me ? 

Then should Thy praises with me grow, 
And share in my degree. 

But when I thus dispute and grieve, 

I do resume my sight ; 
And pilfering what I once did give, 

Disseize Thee of Thy right. 

How know I, if Thou shouldst me raise, 
That I should then raise Thee ? 

Perhaps great places and Thy praise 
Do not so well agree. 

Wherefore unto my gift I stand ; 
I will no more advise : 



THE CHURCH. 109 

Only do Thou lend me a hand, 

Since Thou hast both mine eyes. 



JUSTICE. 

I CANNOt skill of these my ways : 
" Lord, Thou didst make me, yet Thou woundest 

me : 
Lord, thou dost wound me, yet Thou dost relieve 

me : 
Lord, Thou relievest, yet I die by Thee : 
Lord, Thou dost kill me, yet Thou dost reprieve 

me." 

But when I mark my life and praise. 

Thy justice me most fitly pays : 
For " I do praise Thee, yet I praise Thee not : 
My prayers mean Thee, yet my prayers stray : 

I would do well, yet sin the hand hath got : 

My soul doth love Thee, yet it loves delay." 
I cannot skill of these my ways. 



110 Herbert's poems. 



^ CHARMS AND KNOTS. 

"Who read a chapter when they rise, 
Shall ne'er be troubled with ill eyes. 

A poor man's rod, when thou dost ride, 
Is both a weapon and a guide. 

Who shuts his hand, hath lost his gold : 
Who opens it, hath it twice told. 

Who goes to bed, and doth not pray, 
Maketh two nights to every day. 

Who by aspersions throw a stone 
At the head of others, hit their own. 

Who looks on ground with humble eyes, 
Finds himself there, and seeks to rise. 

When the hair is sweet through pride or lust. 
The powder doth forget the dust. 

Take one from ten, and what remains ? 
Ten still, if sermons go for gains. 

In shallow waters heaven doth show : 
But who drinks on, to hell may go. 



THE CHURCH. Ill 



AFFLICTION. 

My God, I read this day, 
That planted Paradise was not so firm 
As was and is Thy floating Ark ; whose stay 
And anchor Thou art only, to confirm 
And strengthen it in every age. 
When waves do rise, and tempests rage. 

At first we lived in pleasure ; 
Thine own delights Thou didst to us impart : 
When we grew wanton, Thou.didst use displeasure 
To make us Thine : yet that we might not part, 
As we at first did board with Thee, 
Now Thou wouldst taste our misery. 

Tliere is but joy and grief ; 
If either will convert us, we are Thine : 
Some Angels used the first ; if our relief 
Take up the second, then Tliy double line 
And several baits in either kind 
Furnish Thy table to Thy mind. 

Affliction then is ours : 
We are the trees, whom shaking fastens more, 
While blustering winds destroy the wanton bowers. 
And ruffle all their curious knots and store. 
My God, so temper joy and woe, 
That Thy bright beams may tame Thy bow. 



112 Herbert's poems. 



MOKTITICATION. 



How soon doth man decay ! 
When clothes are taken from a chest of sweets 
To swaddle infants, whose young breath 

Scarce knows the way ; 
Those clouts are little winding-sheets, 
Which do consign and send them unto death. 

When boys go first to bed, 
They step into their voluntary graves ; 

Sleep binds them fast ; only their breath 

Makes them not dead. 
Successive nights, like rolling waves. 
Convey them quickly, who are bound for death. 

A^^ien youth is frank and free, 
And calls for music, while his veins do swell, 
All day exchanging mirth and breath 

In company ; 
That music summons to the knell. 
Which shall befriend him at the house of death. 

When man grows staid and wise, 
Getting a house and home, where he may move 
Within the circle of his breath, 

Schoohng his eyes ; 
That dumb inclosure maketh love 
Unto the coffin, that attends his death. 



THE CHURCH. 113 

When age grows low and weak, 
Marking his grave, and thawing every year, 
Till all do melt, and drown his breath 

When he would speak ; 
A chair or litter shows the bier 
Which shall convey him to the house of death. 

Man, ere he is aware. 
Hath put together a solemnity, 

And drest his hearse, while he has breath 

As yet to spare. 
Yet, Lord, instruct us so to die 
That all these dyings may be life in death. 



DECAY. 



Sweet were the days, when Thou didst lodge 

with Lot, 
Struggle with Jacob, sit with Gideon, 
Advise with Abraham, when Thy power could not 
Encounter Moses' strong complaints and moan : 
Thy words were then, " Let me alone." 

One might have sought and found Thee presently 
At some fair oak, or bush, or cave, or well : 
Is my God this way ? No, they would reply ; 
He is to Sinai gone, as we heard tell : 

List, ye may hear great Aaron's bell. 

H 



114 Herbert's poems. 

But now Thou dost Thyself immure and close 
In some one corner of a feeble heart ; 
Where yet both Sin and Satan, Thy old foes, 
Do pinch and straiten Thee, and use much art 
To gain Thy thirds and little part. 

I see the world grows old, when as the heat 
Of Thy great love once spread, as in an urn 
Doth closet up itself, and still retreat. 
Cold Sin still forcing it, till it return 

And, calling Justice, all things bum. 



MISERY. 

Lord, let the Angels praise Thy name. 
Man is a foolish thing, a foolish thing ; 
Folly and Sin play all his game. 
His house still burns ; and yet he still doth sing, 
Man is but grass, 
He knows it, fill the glass. 

How canst Thou brook his foolishness ? 
Why, he '11 not lose a cup of drink for Thee : 

Bid him but temper his excess ; 
Not he : he knows where he can better be, 
As he will swear. 
Than to serve Thee in fear. 



THE CHURCH. 115 

What strange pollutions doth he wed, 
And make his own ! as if none knew but he ! 

No man shall beat into his head 
That Thou within his curtams drawn canst see : 
They are of cloth. 
Where never yet came moth. 

The best of men, turn but Thy hand 
For one poor minute, stumble at a pin : 

They would not have their actions scann'd, 
Nor any sorrow tell them that they sin, 
Though it be small. 
And measure not their fall. 

They quarrel Thee, and would give over 
The bargain made to serve Thee : but Thy love 

Holds them unto it, and doth cover 
Their follies with the wing of Thy mild Dove, 
Not suffering those 
Who would, to be Thy foes. 

My God, man cannot praise Thy name : 
Thou art all brightness, perfect purity : 

The sun holds down his head for shame, 
Dead with eclipses, when we speak of Thee. 
How shall infection 
Presume on Thy perfection ? 

As dirty hands foul all they touch, 
And those things most which are most pure and 
fine, 



116 Herbert's poems. 

So our clay hearts, e'en when we crouch 
To sing Thy praises, make them less divine. 
Yet either this 
Or none Thy portion is. 

Man cannot serve Thee ; let him go 
And serve the swine : there, there is his delight 

He doth not like this virtue, no ; 
Give him his dirt to wallow in all night ; - 
These preachers make 
His head to shoot and ache. 

foolish man ! where are thine eyes ? 
How hast thou lost them in a crowd of cares ? 

Thou pull'st the rug, and wilt not rise, 
No, not to purchase the whole pack of stars : 
There let them shine. 
Thou must go sleep, or dine. 

The bird that sees a dainty bovver 
Made in the tree, where she was wont to sit, 
Wonders and sings, but not His power 
Who made the arbor : this exceeds her wit. 
> But man doth know 

The spring whence all things flow ; 

And yet, as though he knew it not. 
His knowledge winks, and lets his humors reign : 

They make his life a constant blot. 
And all the blood of God to run in vain. 



THE CHURCH. 117 

Ah, wretch ! what verse 
Can thy strange ways rehearse ? 

Indeed, at first, man was a treasure, 
A box of jewels, shop of rarities, 

A ring whose posy was, " My pleasure ; " 
He was a garden in a Paradise : 
Glory and grace 
Did crown his heart and face. 

But sin hath fool'd him. Now he is 
A lump of flesh, without a foot or wing 

To raise him to the glimpse of bliss : 
A sick toss'd vessel, dashing on each thing ; 
Nay, his own shelf : 
My God, I mean myself. 



JORDAN. 

When first my lines of heavenly joys made men- 
tion, 
Such was their lustre, they did so excel. 
That I sought out quaint words, and trim invention ; 
My tiioughts began to burnish, sprout, and swell. 
Curling with metaphors a plain intention, 
Decking the sense, as if it were to sell. 

Thousands of notions in my brain did run. 
Offering their service, if I were not sped : 



118 HERBERTS POEMS, 

I often blotted what I had begun ; 
This was not quick enough, and that was dead. 
Nothing could seem too rich to clothe the sun, 
Much less those joys which trample on his head. 

As flames do work and wind when they ascend. 
So did I weave myself into the sense. 
But while I bustled, I might hear a friend 
Whisper, " How wide is all this long pretence ? 
There is in love a sweetness ready penn'd : 
Copy out only that, and save expense." 



PRAYEE. 

Op what an easy, quick access, 
My blessed Lord, art Thou ! how suddenly 

May our requests Thine ear invade ! 
To show that state dislikes not easiness. 
If I but lift mine eyes, my suit is made : 
Thou canst no more not hear, than Thou canst die. 

Of what supreme, almighty power 
Is Thy great arm which spans the east and west. 

And tacks the centre to the sphere ! 
By it do all things live their measured hour : 
We cannot ask the thing which is not there, 
Blaming the shallowness of our request. 



THE CHURCH. 119 

Of what unmeasurable love 
Art Thou possest, who, when Thou couldst pot die, 

Wert fain to take our flesh and curse, 
And for our sakes in person sin reprove ; 
That, by destroying that which tied Thy purse, 
Thou might'st make way for liberality ! 

Since then these three wait on Thy throne. 
Ease, Power, and Love ; I value Prayer so, 

That were I to leave all but one. 
Wealth, fame, endowments, virtues, all should go ; 
I and dear Prayer would together dwell, 
And quickly gain, for each inch lost, an ell. 



OBEDIENCE. 

My God, if writings may 
Convey a lordship any way 
Whither the buyer and the seller please ; 

Let it not Thee displease. 
If this poor paper do as much as they. 

On it my heart doth bleed 
As many lines as there doth need 
To pass itself and all it hath to Thee. 

To which I do agree. 
And here present it as my special deed. 



120 Herbert's poems. 

If that hereafter pleasure 
Cavil, and claim her part and measure, 
As if this passed with a reservation, 

Or some such words in fashion ; 
I here exclude the wrangler from Thy treasure. 

let Thy sacred will 
All Thy delight in me fulfil ! 
Let me not think an action mine own way, 

But as Thy love shall sway, 
Resigning up the rudder to Thy skill. 

Lord, what is man to Thee, 
That Thou shouldst mind a rotten tree ? 
Yet since Thou canst not choose but see my actions. 

So great are Thy perfections. 
Thou may'st as well my actions guide, as see. 

Besides, Thy death and blood 
Show'd a strange love to all our good : 
Thy sorrows w^ere in earnest ; no faint proffer. 

Or superficial offer 
Of what we might not take, or be withstood. 

Wherefore I all forego : 
To one word only I say. No : 
Where in the deed there was an intimation 

Of a gift or donation. 
Lord, let it now by way of purchase go. 



THE CHURCH. 121 

He that will pass his land, 
As I have mine, may set his hand 
And heart unto this deed, when he hath read ; 

And make the purchase spread 
To both our goods, if he to it will stand. 

How happy were my part, 
If some kind man would thi-ust his heart 
Into these lines ; till in heaven's court of rolls 

They were by winged souls 
Enter'd for both, far above their desert ! 



CONSCIENCE. 

Peace, prattler, do not lour : 
Not a fair look, but thou dost call it foul ; 
Not a sweet dish, but thou dost call it sour : 
Music to thee doth howl. 
By Hstening to thy chatting fears 
I have both lost mine eyes and ears. 

Prattler, no more, I say : 
My thoughts must w^ork, but like a noiseless sphere. 
Harmonious peace must rock them all the day : 
No room for prattlers there. 
If thou persisteth, I will tell thee, 
That I have [)hysic to expel thee. 



]22 Herbert's poems. 

And the receipt shall be 
My Saviour's blood : whenever at His board 
I do but taste it, straight it cleanseth me. 
And leaves thee not a word ; 
No, not a tooth or nail to scratch, 
And at my actions carp, or catch. 

Yet if thou talkest still. 

Besides my physic, know there 's some for thee 

Some wood and nails to make a staff or bill 

For those that trouble me : 

The bloody cross of my dear Lord 

Is both my physic and my sword. 



SION. 

Lord, with what glory wast Thou served of old. 
When Solomon's temple stood and flourished ! 

Where most things were of jDurest gold ; 

The wood w^as all embellished 
With flowers and carvings, mystical and rare : 
All show'd the builders craved the seer's care. • 

Yet all this glory, all this pomp and state. 

Did not affect Thee much, was not Thy aim. 
Something there was that sow'd debate : 
Wherefore Thou quitt'st Thy ancient claim : 

And now Thy architecture meets with sin ; 

For all Thy frame and fabric is w^ithin. 



THE CHURCH. 123 

There Thou art strugghng with a peevish heart, 
Which sometimes crosseth Thee, Thou sometimes 
it: 

The fight is hard on either part. 

Great God doth fight. He doth submit. 
All Solomon's sea of brass and world of stone 
Is not so dear to Thee as one good groan. 

And truly brass and stones are heavy things, 
Tombs for the dead, not temples fit for Thee : 
But gi'oans are quick, and full of ^vings. 
And all their motions upward be ; 
And ever as they mount, like larks they sing : 
The note is sad, yet music for a King. 



HOME. 



Come, Lord, my head doth bum, my heart is sick, 

While Thou dost ever, ever stay : 
Thy long deferrings wound me to the quick. 
My spirit gaspeth night and day. 
O show Thyself to me. 
Or take me up to Thee ! 

How canst Thou stay, considering the pace 

The blood did make, which Thou didst waste ? 

When I behold it trickling down Thy face, 
I never saw thing make such haste. 
show Thyself, &c. 



124 Herbert's poems. 

When man was lost, Thy pity look'd about, 
To see what help in the earth or sky : 

But there was none ; at least no help without : 
The help did in Thy bosom lie. 
O show Thyself, &c. 

There lay Thy Son : and must He leave that nest, 
That hive of sweetness, to remove 

Thraldom from those who would not at a feast 
Leave one poor apple for Thy love ? 
O show Thyself, &c. 

He did, He came : my Redeemer dear, 
After all this canst Thou be strange ? 

So many years baptized, and not appear ; 
As if Thy love could fail or change ? 
O show Thyself, &c. 

Yet if Thou stayest still, why must I stay ? 

My God, what is tliis world to me ? 
This world of woe ? Hence, all ye clouds, away, 

Away ; I must get up and see. 
O show Thyself, &c. 

What is this weary world ; this meat and drink, 
That chains us by the teeth so fa«t? 

What is this womankind, which I can wink 
Into a blackness and distaste ? 
show Thyself, &c. 



THE CHURCH. 125 

With one small sigh Thou gavest me the other day 

I blasted all the joys about me ; 
And scowling on tiiem as they pined away, 

Now come again, said I, and flout me. 
O show Thyself, &c. 

Nothing but drought and dearth, but bush and 
brake, 
Which way soe'er I look, I see. 
Some may dream merrily, but when they wake, 
They dress themselves and come to Thee. 
O show Thyself, &c. 

We talk of harvests ; there are no such things, 
But when we leave our corn and hay : 

There is no fruitful year, but that which brings 
The last and loved, though dreadful day. 
O show Thyself, &c. 

loose this frame, this knot of man untie, 
That my free soul may use her wing, 

Which now is pinion'd with mortality. 
As an entangled, haraper'd thing. 
O show Thyself, &c. 

What have I left that I should stay and groan ? 

The most of me to heaven is fled : 
My thoughts and joys are all packed up and gone, 

And for their old acquaintance plead. 
O show Thyself, &c. 



12G Herbert's poems. 

Come, dearest Lord, pass not this holy season, 

My flesh and bones and joints do pray : 
And e'en my verse, when by the rhyme and 
reason 
The word is, " Stay," says ever, " Come." 
O show Thyself to me. 
Or take me up to Thee ! 



THE BRITISH CHURCH. 



I JOY, dear Mother, when I view 
Thy perfect lineaments, and hue 

Both sweet and bright : 



Beauty in thee takes up her place. 
And dates her letters from thy face, 
When she doth write. 

A fine aspect in fit array. 
Neither too mean, nor yet too gay, 
Shows who is best : 

Outlandish looks may not compare ; 
For all they either painted are, 
Or else undrest. 

She on the hills, which wantonly 
AUureth all in hope to be 

By her preferr'd, 



TPIE CHURCH. 127 

Hath kiss'd so long her painted shrines, 
That e'en her face by kissing shines, 
For her reward. 

She in the valley is so shy 
Of dressing, that her hair doth lie 
About her ears : 

While she avoids her neighbors pride, 
She wholly goes on the other side. 
And nothing wears. 

But, dearest Mother, (what those miss,) 
The mean thy praise and glory is. 
And long may be. 

Blessed be God, whose love it was 
To double-moat thee with His grace. 
And none but thee. 



THE QUIP. 

The merry world did on a day 
With his train-bands and mates agree 
To meet together, where I lay, 
And all in sport to jeer at me. 

First, Beauty crept into a rose ; 

Which when I pluckt not, — Sir, said she, 



128 Herbert's poems. 

Tell me, I pray, whose hands are those ? 
But Thou shalt answer, Lord, for me. 

Then Money came, and, chinking still, 
What tune is this, poor man ? said he : 
I heard in music you had skill : 
But Thou shalt answer, Lord, for me. 

Then came brave Glory puffing by 
In silks that wdiistled, who but he ! 
He scarce allow'd me half an eye : 
But Thou shalt answer, Lord, for me. 

Then came quick Wit and Conversation, 
And he would needs a comfort be, 
Aiid, to be short, make an oration : 
But Thou shalt answer, Lord, for me. 

Yet when the hour of Thy design 
To answer these fine things shall come, 
Speak not at large ; say, I am Thine, 
And then they have theii' answer home. 



VANITY. 



Poor, silly soul, whose hope and head lies low ; 
Whose flat delights on earth do creep and grow 
To whom the stars shine not so fair as eyes ; 
Nor solid work, as false embroideries ; 



THE CHURCH. 129 

Hark and beware, lest what you now do measure, 
And write for sweet, pi-ove a most sour displeasure. 

O hear betimes, lest thy relenting 

May come too late ! 
To purchase heaven for repenting 

Is no hard rate. 
If souls be made of earthly mould, 

Let them love gold ; 

If born on high. 
Let them unto their kindred fly : 
For they can never be at rest, 
Till they regain their ancient nest. 
Then, silly soul, take heed ; for earthly joy 
Is but a bubble, and makes thee a boy. 



THE DAWNING. 

Awake, sad heart, whom sorrow ever drowns : 

Take up thine eyes, which feed on earth, 
Unfold thy forehead gather'd into frowns ; 

Thy Saviour comes, and with Him mirth : 
Awake, awake ; 
And with a thankful heart His comforts take. 

But thou dost still lament, and pine, and cry ; 

And feel His death, but not His victory. 

Arise, sad heart ; if thou dost not withstand, 
' Christ's resurrection thine may be : 
I 



130 Herbert's poems. 

Do not by hanging down break from the hand, 
Which, as it riseth, raiseth thee : 
Arise, arise ; 
And with His burial-linen dry thine eyes. 

Christ left His grave-clothes, that we might, 

when grief 
Draws tears or blood, not want an handkerchief. 



JESU. 



Jesu is in my heart, His sacred name 
Is deeply carved there ; but the other week 
A great affliction broke the little frame, 
E'en all to pieces ; which I went to seek : 
And first I found the corner where was J^ 
After, where ^aS', and next where Z7, was graved. 
When I had got these parcels, instantly 
I sat me down to spell them, and perceived 
That to my broken heart He was 1 ease you. 
And to my whole is JESU. 



BUSINESS. 

Canst be idle ? canst thou play, 
Foolish soul who sinn'd to-day ? 

Eivers run, and springs each one 
Know their home, and get them gone : 
Hast thou tears, or hast thou none? 



THE CHURCH. 131 

If, poor soul, thou hast no tears, 
Would thou hadst no faults or fears ! 
Who hath these, those ills forbears. 

Winds still work : it is their plot, 

Be the season cold or hot : 

Hast thou sighs, or hast thou not ? 

If thou hast no sighs or groans, 
Would thou hadst no flesh and bones ! 
Lesser pains 'scape greater ones. 

But if yet thou idle be, 

Foolish soul. Who died for thee ? 

Who did leave His Father's throne, 
To assume thy flesh and bone ? 
Had He life, or had He none ? 

If He had not lived for thee. 
Thou hadst died most wretchedly ; 
And two deaths had been thy fee. 

He so far thy good did plot, 
That His own self He forgot. 
Did He die, or did He not ? 

If He had not died for thee. 
Thou hadst lived in misery. 
Two lives worse than ten deaths be. 



132 Herbert's poems. 

And hath any space of breath 
'Twixt his sins and Saviour's death ? 

He that loseth gold, though dross, 
Tells to all he meets his cross : 
He that sins, hath he no loss ? 

He that finds a silver vein. 
Thinks on it, and thinks again : 
Brings thy Saviour's death no gain ? 

Who in heart not ever kneels, 
Neither sin nor Saviour feels. 



DIALOGUE. 

Sweetest Saviour, if my soul 

Were but worth the having, 
Quickly should I then control 
Any thought of waving. 
But when all my care and pains 
Cannot give the name of gains 
To Thy wretch so full of stains ; 
What delight or hope remains ? 

What (Child), is the balance thine ? 

Thine the poise and measure ? 
If I say, " Thou shalt be Mine," 

Finger not My treasure. 



THE CHURCH. 133 

What the gains in having thee 
Do amount to, only He, 
"Who for man was sold, can see. 
That transferr'd the accounts to me. 

But as I can see no merit. 

Leading to this favor, 
So the way to fit me for it. 

Is beyond my savor. 
As the reason then is Thine, 
So the way is none of mine ; 
I disclaim the whole design : 
Sin disclaims and I resign. 

That is all, if that I could 

Get without repining ; 
And My clay, My creature, would 

Follow My resigning : 
That as I did freely part 
With My glory and desert. 
Left all joys to feel all smart — 
Ah ! no more : Thou break'st my heart. 



DULNESS. 

Why do I languish thus, drooping and dull. 

As if I were all earth ? 
O give me quickness, that I may with mirth 
Praise Thee brimful ! 



134 Herbert's poems. 

The wanton lover in a curious strain 

Can praise his fairest fair ; 
And with quaint metaphors her curled hair 
Curl o'er again : 

Thou art my loveliness, my life, my light, 

Beauty alone to me : 
Thy bloody death, and undeserved, makes Thee 
Pure red and white. 

When all perfections as but one appear, 
That those Thy form doth show. 
The very dust, where Thou dost tread and go, 
Makes beauties here. 

Where are my lines then ? my approaches ? 
views ? 
Where are my window-songs ? 
Lovers are still pretending, and e'en wrongs 
Sharpen their muse. 

But I am lost in flesh, whose sugar'd lies 

Still mock me, and grow bold : 
Sure Thou didst put a mind there, if I could 
Find where it lies. 

Lord, clear Thy gift, that with a constant wit 

I may but look towards Thee : 
Look only ; for to love Thee, who can be, 
What angel, fit ? 



THE CHURCH. 135 



LOVE- JOY. 



As on a window late I cast mine eye, 
I saw a vine drop grapes with J and C 
Anneal'd on every bunch. One standing by 
Ask'd what it meant. I (who am never loth 
To spend my judgment) said, it seem'd to me 
To be the body and the letters both 
Of Joy and Charity. Sir, you have not miss'd, 
The man replied ; it figures Jesus Christ. 



PROVIDENCE. 

O SACRED Providence, Who from end to end 
Strongly and sweetly movest ! shall I write. 
And not of Thee, through whom my fingers bend 
To hold my quill ? shall they not do Thee right ? 

Of all the creatures both in sea and land, 
Only to man Thou hast made known Thy ways, 
And put the pen alone into his hand. 
And made him secretary of Thy praise. 

Beasts fain would sing ; birds ditty to their notes ; 
Trees would be tuning on their native lute 
To Thy renown : but all their hands and throats 
Are brought to man, while they are lame and 
mute. 



136 Herbert's poems. 

Man is the world's high priest : he doth present 

The sacrifice for all ; while they below 

Unto the service mutter an assent, 

Such as springs use that fall, and winds that blow. 

He that to praise and laud Thee doth refrain, 
Doth not refrain unto himself alone, 
But robs a thousand who would praise Thee fain, 
And doth commit a world of sin in one. 

The beasts say, eat me ; but, if beasts must teach, 
The tongue is yours to eat, but mine to praise. 
The trees say, pull me ; but the hand you stretch 
Is mine to write, as it is yours to raise. 

Wherefore, most sacred Spirit, I here present 
For me and all my fellows praise to Thee : 
And just it is that I should pay the rent, 
Because the benefit accrues to me. 

We all acknowledge both Thy power and love 
To be exact, transcendent, and divine ; 
Who dost so strongly and so sweetly move. 
While all things have their will, yet none but 
Thine. 

For either Thy command or Thy permission 
Lay hands on all ; they are Thy right and left : 
The first puts on with speed and expedition ; 
The other curbs sin's stealing pace and theft. 



THE CHURCH. 137 

Nothing escapes them both : all must appear, 
And be disposed, and dress'd, and tuned by Thee, 
Who sweetly temper'st all. If we could hear 
Thy skill and art, what music would it be ! 

Thou art in small things great, not small in any : 
Thy even praise can neither rise nor fall. 
Thou art in all things one, in each thing many ; 
For Thou art infinite in one and all. 

Tempests are calm to Thee ; they know Thy hand, 
And hold it fast, as children do their father's. 
Which cry and follow. Thou hast made poor sand 
Check the proud sea, e'en when it swells and 
gathers. 

Thy cupboard serves the world : the meat is set 
Where all may reach : no beast but knows his feed. 
Birds teach us hawking ; fishes have their net ; 
The great prey on the less, they on some weed. 

Nothing engender'd doth prevent his meat ; 
Flies have their table spread, ere they appear ; 
Some creatures have in winter what to eat ; 
Others do sleep, and envy not their cheer. 

How finely dost Thou times and seasons spin. 
And make a twist checker'd with night and day ! 
Which, as it lengthens, winds, and winds us in, 
As bowls go on, but turning all the way. 



138 Herbert's poems. 

Each creature hath a wisdom for his good. 
The pigeons feed their tender offspring, crying, 
When they are callow ; but withdraw their food, 
When they are fledged, that need may teach them 
flying. 

Bees work for man ; and yet they never bruise 
Their master's flower, but leave it, having done, 
As fair as ever, and as fit to use : 
So both the flower doth stay, and honey run. 

Sheep eat the grass, and dung the ground for 

more : 
Trees, after bearing, drop their leaves for soil : 
Springs vent their streams, and by expense get 

store : 
Clouds cool by heat, and baths by cooling boil. 

Who hath the virtue to express the rare 
And curious virtues both of herbs and stones ? 
Is there an herb for that ? that Thy care 
Would show a root that gives expressions ! 

And if an herb hath power, what have the stars ? 
A rose, besides his beauty, is a cure. 
Doubtless our plagues and plenty, peace and wars, 
Are there much surer than our art is sure. 

Thou hast hid metals : man may take them thence ; 
But at his peril : when he digs the place. 



THE CHURCH. 139 

He makes a grave ; as if tlie thing had sense, 
And threaten'd man, that he should fill the space. 

E'en poisons praise Thee. Should a thing be lost ? 
Should creatures want, for want of heed, their 

due ? 
Since, where are poisons, antidotes are most ; 
The help stands close, and keeps the fear in view. 

The sea, which seems to stop the traveller. 
Is by a ship the speedier passage made. 
The winds, who think They rule the mariner, 
Are ruled by him, and taught to serve his trade. 

And as Thy house is full, so I adore 

Thy curious art in marshalling Thy goods. 

The hills with health abound ; the vales with 

store ; 
The south with marble ; north with furs and 

woods. 

Hard things are glorious ; easy things good cheap ; 
The common all men have ; that which is rare, 
Men therefore seek to have, and care to keep. 
The healthy frosts with summer fruits compare. 

Light without wind is glass ; warm without weight 
Is wool and furs ; cool without closeness, shade ; 
Speed without pains, a horse ; tall without height, 
A servile hawk ; low without loss, a spade. 



140 Herbert's poems. 

All countries have enough to serve their ixeed : 
If they seek fine things, Thou dost make them 

run 
For their offence ; and then dost turn their speed 
To be commerce and trade from sun to sun. 

Nothing wears clothes, but man ; nothing doth 

need 
But lie to wear them. Nothing useth fire. 
But man alone, to show his heavenly breed : 
And only he hath fuel in desire. 

When the earth was dry, Thou madest a sea of 

wet ; 
When that lay gather'd. Thou didst broach the 

mountains ; 
When yet some places could no moisture get. 
The winds grew gardeners, and the clouds good 

fountains. , 

Rain, do not hurt my flowers, but gently spend 
Your honey-drops ; press not to smell them here : 
When they are ripe, their odor will ascend. 
And at your lodging with their thanks appear. 

How harsh are thorns to pears ! and yet they 

make 
A better hedge, and need less reparation. 
How smooth are silks, compared with a stake, 
Or with a stone ! yet make no good foundation. 



THE CHURCH. 141 

Sometimes Thou dost divide thy gifts to man, 
Sometimes unite. The Indian nut alone 
Is clothing, meat and trencher, drink and can, 
Boat, cable, sail and needle, all in one. 

Most herbs that grow in brooks are hot and dry. 
Cold fruit's warm kernels help against the wind. 
The lemon's juice and rind cure mutually. 
The whey of milk doth loose, the milk doth bind. 

Thy creatures leap not, but express a feast. 
Where all the guests sit close, and nothing wants. 
Frogs marry fish and flesh ; bats, bird and beast ; 
Sponges, nonsense and sense ; mines, the earth 
and plants. 

To show Thou art not bound, as if Thy lot 
"Were worse than ours, sometimes Thou shiftest 

hands. 
Most things move the under jaw ; the crocodile 

not. 
Most things sleep lying, the elephant leans or 

stands. 

But who hath praise enough ? nay, who hath any ? 
None can express Thy works, but he that knows 

them ; 
And none can know Thy works, which are so 

many, 
And so complete, but only he that owes them. 



142 Herbert's poems. 

All things that are, though they have several 

ways, 
Yet in their being join with one advice 
To honor Thee : and so I give Thee praise 
In all my other hymns, but in this twice. 

Each thing that is, although in use and name 
It go for one, hath many ways in store 
To honor Thee ; and so each hymn Thy fame 
ExtoUeth many ways, yet this one more. 



HOPE. 



I GAVE to Hope a watch of mine : but he 

An anchor gave to me. 
Then an old Prayer-book I did present : 

And he an optic sent. 
With that I gave a phial full of tears : 

But he a few green ears. 
Ah, loiterer ! I '11 no more, no more I '11 bring 

I did expect a ring. 



SINS KOUND. 



Sorry I am, my God, sorry I am, 
That my offences course it in a ring. 
My thoughts are working like a busy flame. 
Until their cockatrice they hatch and bring : 



THE CHURCH. 143 

And when they once have perfected their draughts, 
My words take fire from my inflamed thoughts. 

My words take fire from my inflamed thoughts, 

Which spit it forth like the Sicilian hill. 

They vent the wares, and pass them with their 

faults. 
And by their breathing ventilate the ill. 
But words suffice not, where are lewd intentions : 
My hands do join to finish the inventions. 

My hands do join to finish the inventions ; 

And so my sins ascend three stories high. 

As Babel grew before there were dissensions. 

Yet ill deeds loiter not ; for they supply 

New thoughts of sinning : wherefore, to my shame, 

Sorry I am, my God ; sorry I am. 



TIME. 



Meeting with Time, Slack thing, said I, 
Thy scythe is dull : whet it for shame. 
No marvel, Sir, he did reply, 
If it at length deserve some blame ; 

But where one man would have me grind it, 
Twenty for one too sharp do find it. 

Perhaps some such of old did pass. 
Who above all things loved this life ; 



144 HERBERT'S POEMS. 

To whom thy scythe a hatchet was, 

Which now is but a pruning-knife. 

Christ's coming hath made man thy debtor, 
Since by thy cutting he grows better. 

And in His blessing thou art blest ; 

For, where thou only wert before 

An executioner at best, 

Thou art a gardener now, and more ; 
An usher to convey our souls 
Beyond the utmost stars and poles. 

And this is that makes life so long, 
AYhile it detains us from our God. 
E'en pleasures here increase the wrong ; 
And length of days lengthen the rod. 

Who wants the place where God doth dwell, 

Partakes already half of hell. 

Of what strange length must that needs be 
Which e'en eternity excludes ! 
Thus far, Time heard me patiently ; 
Then chafing said, This man deludes : 

What do I hear before his door ? 

He doth not crave less time, but more. 



THE CHURCH. 145 



GRATEFULNESS. 

Thou that hast given so much to me, 
Give one thing more, a grateful heart. 
See how Thj beggar works on Thee 
By art. 

He makes Thy gifts occasion more. 
And says, if he in this be crost. 
All Thou hast given him heretofore 
Is lost. 

But Thou didst reckon, when at first 
Thy word our hearts and hands did crave, 
What it would come to at the worst 
To save. 

Perpetual knockings at Thy door, 
Tears sullying Thy transparent rooms. 
Gift upon gift ; much would have more, 
And comes. 

This not withstanding. Thou went'st on. 
And didst allow us all our noise : 
Nay, Thou hast made a sigh and groan 
Thy joys. 
J 



146 Herbert's poems. 

Not that Thou hast not still above 
Much better tunes than groans can make 
But that these country-airs Thy love 
Did take. 

Wherefore I cry, and cry again ; 
And in no quiet canst Thou be, 
Till I a thankful heart obtain 
Of Thee : 

Not thankful, when it pleaseth me ; 
As if Thy blessings had spare days : 
But such a heart, whose pulse may be 
Thy praise. 



PEACE. 



Sweet Peace, where dost thou dwell ? I humbly 
crave, 

Let me once know. 
I sought thee in a secret cave. 

And ask'd, if Peace were there. 
A hollow wind did seem to answer. No : 
Go seek elsewhere. 

I did ; and, going, did a rainbow note : 
Surely, thought I, 
This is the lace of Peace's coat : 



THE CHURCH. 147 

I will search out the matter. 
But while I look'd, the clouds immediately 
Did break and scatter. 

Then went I to a garden, and did spy 
A gallant flower, 
The crown imperial : Sure, said I, 
Peace at the root must dwell. 
But when I digg'd, I saw a worm devour 
What show'd so well. 

At length I met a reverend, good old man ; 
Whom when for Peace 
I did demand, he thus began : 
There was a Prince of old 
At Salem dwelt, Who lived with good increase 
Of flock and fold. 

He sweetly lived ; yet sweetness did not save 
His life from foes. 
But, after death, out of His grave 

There sprang twelve stalks of wheat : 
Which many wondering at, got some of those 
To plant and set. 

It prosper'd strangely, and did soon disperse 
Through all the earth : 
For they that taste it do rehearse, 
That virtue lies therein ; 
A secret virtue, bringing peace and mirth 
By flight of sin. 



148 Herbert's poems. 

Take of this grain, which in my garden grows, 
And grows for you ; 
Make bread of it : and that repose 
And peace, which everywhere 
"With so much earnestness you do pursue, 
Is only there. 



CONFESSION. 

O WHAT a cunning guest 
Is this same grief! within my heart I made 

Closets, and in them many a chest ; 

And, like a master in my trade. 
In those chests, boxes ; in each box, a till : 
Yet grief knows all, and enters when he will. 

No screw, no piercer can 
Into a piece of timber work and wind. 
As God's afflictions into man, 
When He a torture hath design'd. 
They are too subtle for the subtlest hearts ; 
And fall, like rheums, upon the tenderest parts. 

We are the earth ; and they. 
Like moles within us, heave, and cast about : 
And till they foot and clutch their prey, 
They never cool, much less give out. 
No smith can make such locks, but they have 

keys; 
Closets are halls to them ; and hearts, highways. 



THE CHURCH. 149 

Only an open breast 
Doth shut them out, so that they cannot enter ; 
Or, if they enter, cannot rest, 
But quickly seek some new adventure. 
Smooth open hearts no fastening have : but fiction 
Doth give a hold and handle to affliction. 

Wherefore my faults and sins, 
Lord, I acknowledge ; take Thy plagues away : 
For since confession pardon wins, 
I challenge here the brightest day. 
The cleai'est diamond : let them do theii* best, 
They shall be thick and cloudy to my breast. 



GIDDINESS. 

O WHAT a thing is man ! how far from power, 

From settled peace and rest ! 
He is some twenty several men at least 

Each several hour. 

One while he counts of heaven, as of his treasure 
But then a thought creeps in. 

And calls him coward, who for fear of sin 
Will lose a pleasure. 

Now he will fight it out, and to the wars ; 

Now eat his bread in peace, 
And snudge in quiet : now he scorns increase ; 

Now all day spares. 



150 Herbert's poems. 

He builds a house, which quickly down must go, 

As if a whirlwind blew 
And crush'd the building : and 't is partly true, 

His mind is so. 

O what a sight were man, if his attires 

Did alter with his mind ; 
And, like a dolphin's skin, his clothes combined 

With his desires ! 

Surely, if each one saw another's heart. 
There would be no commerce. 

No sale or bargain pass : all would disperse, 
And live apart. 

Lord, mend or rather make us : one creation 

Will not suffice our turn : 
Except Thou make us daily, we shall spurn 

Our own salvation. 



THE BUNCH OF GRAPES. 

Joy, I did lock thee up : but some bad man 
Hath let thee out again : 

And now, methinks, I am where I began 
Seven years ago : one vogue and vein, 
One air of thoughts usurps my brain ; 

I did towards Canaan draw ; but now I am 

Brought back to the Red Sea, the sea of shame. 



THE CHURCH. 151 

For as the Jews of old, by God's command 

Travell'd, and saw no town, 
So now each Christian hath his journeys spann'd : 

Their story pens and sets us down. 

A single deed is small renown. 
God's works are wide, and let in future times ; 
His ancient justice overflows our crimes. 

Then have we too our guardian fires and clouds ; 

Our Scripture-dew drops fast : 
We have our sands and serpents, tents and shrouds ; 

Alas ! our murmurings come not last. 

But where 's ilie cluster ? where 's the taste 
Of mine inheritance ? Lord, if I must borrow. 
Let me as well take up their joy, as sorrow. 

But can he want the grape who hath the wine ? 

I have their fruit and more. 
Blessed be God, who prosper'd Noah's vine. 

And made it bring forth grapes good store. 

But much more Him I must adore. 
Who of the law's sour juice sweet wine did make, 
E'en God Himself being pressed for my sake. 



LOVE UNKNOWN. 



Dear friend, sit dow^n : the tale is long and sad ; 
And in my faintings I presume your love 



^52 Herbert's poems. 

Will more comply than lielp. A Lord I had, 
And have, of Whom some grounds, which may im- 
prove, 
I hold for two lives, and both lives in me. 
To Him I brought a dish of fruit one day. 
And in the middle placed my heart. But He 

(I sigh to say) 
Look'd on a servant, who did know His eye 
Better than you know me, or (which is one) 
Than I myself The servant instantly, 
Quitting the fruit, seized on my heart alone, 
And threw it in a font, wherein did fall 
A stream of blood, which issued from the side 
Of a great rock. I well remember all, 
And have good cause. There it was dipt and dyed, 
And wash'd, and wrung : the very wringing yet 
Enforceth tears. " Your heart was foul, I fear." 
Indeed, 't is true. I did and do commit 
Many a fault more than my lease will bear ; 
Yet still ask'd pardon, and was not denied. 
But you shall hear. After my heart was well, 
And clean and fair, as I one even-tide 

(I sigh to tell) 
Walk'd by myself abroad, I saw a large 
And spacious furnace flaming, and thereon 
A boiling caldron, round about whose verge 
Was in great letters set AFFLICTION. 
The greatness show'd the Owner. So I went 
To fetch a sacrifice out of my fold, 
Thinking with that, wdiicli I did thus present, 



THE CHURCH. 153 

To warm His love, which I did fear grew cold. 

But as my heart did tender it, the man 

Who was to take it from me, slipt his hand, 

And threw my heart into the scalding pan ; 

My heart, that brought it, (do you understand ?) 

The oflferer's heart. " Your heart was hard, I fear." 

Indeed, 't is true. I found a callous matter 

Began to spread and to expatiate there : 

But, with a richer drug than scalding water, 

I bathed it often, e'en with holy blood, 

Which at a board, while many drank bare wine, 

A friend did steal into my cup for good. 

E'en taken inwardly, and most divine 

To supple hardnesses. But at the length 

Out of the caldron getting, soon I fled 

Unto my house, where, to repair the strength 

Which I had lost, I hasted to my bed : 

But when I thought to sleep out all these faults, 

(I sigh to speak,) 
I found that some had stuff'd the bed with thoughts, 
I would say thorns. Dear, could my heart not 

break. 
When, with my pleasures, e'en my rest was gone ? 
Full well I understood Who had been there ; 
For I had given the key to none but One : 
It must be He. " Your heart Avas dull, I fear." 
Indeed, a slack and sleepy state of mind 
Did oft possess me, so that when I pray'd. 
Though my lips went, my heart did stay behind. 
But all my scores were by another paid. 



154 Herbert's poems. 

Who took the debt upon Him. " Truly, friend, 
For ought I liear, your Master shows to you 
More favor than you wot of. Mark the end. 
The font did only what was old renew : 
The caldron suppled what was grown too hard : 
The thorns did quicken what was grown too dull : 
All did but strive to mend what you had marr'd. 
Wherefore be cheer'd, and praise Him to the 

full 
Each day, each hour, each moment of the week, 
Who fain would have you be, new, tender, quick." 



MAN'S MEDLEY. 

Hark, how the birds do sing, 
And w^oods do ring. 
All creatures have their joy, and man hath his. 
Yet, if we rightly measure, 
Man's joy and pleasure 
Rather hereafter than in present is. 

To this life, things of sense 
Make their pretence ; 
In the other. Angels have a right by birth : 
IVIan ties them both alone. 
And makes them one, 
With the one hand touching heaven, with the other 
earth. 



THE CHURCH. 155 

In soul he mounts and flies ; 
In flesh he dies. 
He wears a stuff whose thread is coarse and round, 
But trimm'd with curious lace, 
And should take place 
After the trimming, not the stuff and ground. 

Not that he may not here 
Taste of the cheer ; 
But as birds drink, and straight lift up their head, 
So must he sip, and think 
Of better drink 
He may attain to, after he is dead. 

But as his joys are double. 
So is his trouble. 
He hath two winters, other things but one : 
Both frosts and thoughts do nip. 
And bite his lip ; 
And he of all things fears two deaths alone. 

Yet even the greatest griefs 
May be reliefs, 
Could he but take them right, and in their ways. 
Happy is he whose heart 
Hath found the art 
To turn his double pains to double praise. 



156 Herbert's poems. 



THE STORM. 

If, as the winds and waters here below 

Do fly and flow, 
My sighs and tears as busy were above. 

Sure they would move 
And much affect Thee, as tempestuous times 
Amaze poor mortals, and object their crimes. 

Stars have their storms, e'en in a high degree, 

As well as we. 
A throbbing conscience, spurred by remorse. 

Hath a strange force : 
It quits the earth, and, mounting more and more, 
Dares to assault Thee, and besiege Thy door. 

There it stands knocking, to Thy music's wrong, 
And drowns the song. 

Glory and honor are set by, till it 
An answer get. 

Poets have wrong'd poor storms : such days are 
best; 

They purge the air without, within the breast. 



THE CHURCH. 157 



PARADISE. 

I BLESS Thee, Lord, because I grow 
Among Thy trees, which in a row 
To Thee both fruit and order ow. 

What open force or hidden charm 
Can blast my fruit, or bring me harm. 
While the inclosure is Thine arm ? 

Inclose me still, for fear I start. 
Be to me rather sharp and tart, 
Than let me want Thy hand and art. 

When Thou dost greater judgments spare, 
And with Thy knife but prune and pare, 
E'en fruitful trees more fruitful are. 

Such sharpness shows the sweetest friend ; 
Such cuttings rather heal than rend ; 
And such beginnings touch their end. 



158 Herbert's poems. 



THE METHOD. 

Poor heart, lament; 
For since thy God refuseth still, 
There is some rub, some discontent, 

Which cools His will. 

Thy Father could 
Quickly effect what thou dost move ; 
For He is Power : and sure He would ; 

For He is Love. 

Go, search this thing, 
Tumble thy breast, and turn thy book : 
If thou hadst lost a glove or ring, 

Wouldst thou not look ? 

What do I see 
Written above there ? Yesterday 
I did behave me carelessly, 

When I did pray. 

And should God's ear 
To such indifferents chained be. 
Who do not their own motions hear ? 

Is God less free ? 



THE CHURCH. 159 

But stay ! what 's there ? 
Late when I would have something done, 
I had a motion to forbear, 

Yet I went on. 

And should God's ear, 
Which needs not man, be tied to those 
Who hear not Him, but quickly hear 

His utter foes ? 

Then once more pray ; 
Down with thy knees, up with thy voice : 
Seek pardon first, and God will say, 

Glad heart, rejoice. 



DIVINITY. 

As men, for fear the stars should sleep and nod. 
And trip at night, have spheres supplied ; 

As if a star were duller than a clod, 

Which knows his way without a guide : 

Just so the other heaven they also serve. 

Divinity's transcendent sky ; 
Which with the edge of wit they cut and carve. 
* Reason triumphs, and Faith lies by. 



160 Herbert's poems. 

Could not that Wisdom, which first broach'd the 
wine, 

Have thicken'd it with definitions ? 
And jagg'd His seamless coat, had that been fine, 

With curious questions and divisions ? 

But all the doctrine which He taught and gave, 
Was clear as heaven, from whence it came. 

At least those beams of truth, which only save, 
Surpass in brightness any flame. 

Love God, and love your neighbor. Watch and 
pray. 

Do as you would be done unto. 
O dark instructions, e'en as dark as day ! 

Who can these Gordian knots undo ? 

But He doth bid us take His blood for wine. 

Bid what He please ; yet I am sure, 
To take and taste what He doth there design, 



Then burn thy Epicycles, foolish man ; 

Break all thy spheres, and save thy head ; 
Faith needs no staff of flesh, but stoutly can 

To heaven alone both go and lead. 



THE CHURCH. 161 



GRIEVE NOT THE HOLY SPIRIT, ETC. 

EPHESIANS IV. 30. 

And art Thou grieved, sweet and sacred Dove, 
When I am sour, 
And cross Thy love ? 
Grieved for me ? the God of strength and power 
Grieved for a worm, which, when I tread, 
I pass away and leave it dead ? 

Then weep, mine eyes, the God of love doth 
grieve : 

Weep, foolish heart, 

And weeping live ; 

For death is dry as dust. Yet if we part, 

End as the night, whose sable hue 

Your sins express ; melt into dew. 

When saucy mirth shall knock or call at door, 
Cry out. Get hence, 
Or cry no more. 
Almighty God doth grieve, He puts on sense : 
I sin not to my grief alone. 
But to my God's too ; He doth groan. 

O take thy lute, and tune it to a strain. 

Which may with thee 

All day complain. 
There can no discord but in ceasing be. 



162 h^erbert's poems. 

Marbles can weep ; and surely strings 
More bowels have, than such hard things. 

Lord, I adjudge myself to tears and grief, 
E'en endless tears 
"Without relief. 
If a clear spring for me no time forbears, 
But runs, although I be not dry ; 
I am no crystal, what shall I ? 

Yet if I wail not still, since still to wail 
Nature denies ; 
And flesh would fail, 
If my deserts were masters of mine eyes : 

Lord, pardon, for Thy Son makes good 
My want of tears with store of blood. 



THE FAMILY. 

What doth this noise of thoughts within my 
heart, 

As if they had a part ? 
What do these loud complaints and pulling fears, 
As if there were no rule or eai-s ? 

But, Lord, the house and family are Thine, 

Though some of them repine. 
Turn out these wranglers, which defile Thy seat 
For where Thou dwellest all is neat. 



THE CHURCH. 163 

First Peace and Silence all disputes control, 

Then Order plays the soul ; 
And giving all things their set forms and hours, 
Makes of wild woods sweet walks and 
bowers. 

Humble Obedience near the door doth stand, 

Expecting a command : 
Than whom in waiting nothing seems more slow, 
Nothing more quick when she doth go. 

Joys oft are there, and griefs as oft as joys ; 

But griefs without a noise : 
Yet speak they louder than distemper'd fears : 
What is so shrill as silent tears ? 

This is Thy house ; wath these it doth abound : 

And where these are not found, 
Perhaps Thou comest sometimes, and for a day ; 
But not to make a constant stay. 



THE SIZE. 

Content thee, greedy heart. 
Modest and moderate joys, to those that have 
Title to more hereafter when they part. 
Are passing brave. 
Let the upper springs into the low 
Descend and fall, and thou dost flow. 



164 Herbert's poems. 

What though some have a fraught 
Of cloves and nutmegs, and in cimiamon sail ? 
If thou hast wherewithal to spice a draught, 
When griefs prevail. 
And for the future time art heir 
To the isle of spices, is 't not fair ? 

To be in both worlds full 
Is more than God was. Who was hungry here. 
Wouldst thou His laws of fasting disannul ? 
Enact good cheer ? 
Lay out thy joy, yet hope to save it ? 
Wouldst thou both eat thy cake, and have it ? 

Great joys are all at once ; 
But little do reserve themselves for more : 
Those have their hopes ; these what they have 
renounce. 

And live on score : 
Those are at home ; these journey still, 
And meet the rest on S ion's hill. 

Thy Saviour sentenced joy. 

And in the flesh condemn'd it as unfit, 

At least in lump : for such doth oft destroy ; 

Whereas a bit 

Doth 'tice us on to hopes of more, 

And for the present health restore. 

A Christian's state and case 
Is not a corpulent, but a thin and spare. 



THE CHURCH. 165 

Yet active strength : whose long and bony face 
Content and care 
Do seem to equally divide, 
Like a pretender, not a bride. 

Wherefore sit down, good heart ; 

Grasp not at much, for fear thou losest all. 

If comforts fell according to desert, 

They would great frosts and snows destroy : 
For we should count, Since the last joy. 

Then close again the seam 
Which thou hast open'd ; do not spread thy robe 
In hope of great things. Call to mind thy dream, 
An earthly globe, 
On whose meridian was engraven. 
These seas are tears, and Heaven the haven. 



ARTILLERY. 

As I one evening sat before my cell, 

Me thought a star did shoot into my lap. 

I rose, and shook my clothes, as knowing well. 

That from small fires come oft no small mishap ; 

When suddenly I heard one say, — 

Do as thou usest, disobey ; 

Expel good motions from thy breast. 
Which have the face of fire, but end in rest. 



166 Herbert's poems. 

I, who had heard of music in the spheres, 
But not of speech in stars, began to muse ; 
But turning to my God, Whose ministers 
The stars and all things are : If I refuse. 
Dread Lord, said I, so oft my good. 
Then I refuse not e'en with blood 
To wash away my stubborn thought : 
For I will do, or suffer what I ought. 

But I have also stars and shooters too. 
Born where Thy servants both artilleries use. 
My tears and prayers night and day do woo, 
And work up to Thee ; yet Thou dost refuse. 
Not but I am (I must say still) 
Much more obliged to do Thy will. 
Than Thou to grant mine ; but because 
Thy promise now hath e'en set Thee Thy laws. 

Then we are shooters both, and Thou dost deign 
To enter combat with us, and contest 
With Thine own clay. But I would parley fain : 
Shun not my arrows, and behold ray breast. 

Yet if Thou shunnest, I am Thine : 

I must be so, if I am mine. 

There is no articling with Thee : 
I am but finite, yet Thine infinitely. 



THE CHURCH. 167 



CHURCH-RENTS AND SCHISMS. 

Brave Rose, (alas !) where art thou ? in the chair, 
Where thou didst lately so triumph and shine, 
A worm dost sit, whose many feet and hair 
Are the more foul, the more thou wert divine. 
This, this hath done it, this did bite the root 
And bottom of the leaves : which when the wind 
Did once perceive, it blew them underfoot. 
Where rude unhallowed steps do crush and grind 
Their beauteous glories. Only shreds of thee, 
And those all bitten, in thy chair I see. 

Why doth my Mother blush ? is she the rose. 
And shows it so ? Indeed Christ's precious blood 
Gave you a color once ; which when your foes 
Thought to let out, the bleeding did you good, 
And made you look much fresher than before. 
But when debates and fretting jealousies 
Did worm and work within you more and more, 
Your color faded, and calamities 

Turned your ruddy into pale and bleak : 
Your health and beauty both began to break. 

Then did your several parts unloose and start : 
Which when your neighbors saw, like a north- 
wind 
They rushed in, and cast them in the dirt 
Where Pagans tread. Mother, dear and kind, 



168 Herbert's poems. 

Wliere shall I get me eyes enough to weep, 
As many eyes as stars ? since it is night, 
And much of Asia and Europe fast asleep, 
And e'en all Afric ; would at least I might 
With these two poor ones lick up all the dew, 
Which falls by night, and pour it out for you ! 



JUSTICE. 

O DREADFUL Justicc, what a fright and terror 
Wast thou of old, 
When sin and error 
Did show and shape thy looks to me, 
And through their glass discolor thee ! 
He that did but look up, was proud and bold. 

The dishes of thy balance seem'd to gape, 
Like two great pits ; 
The beam and scape 
Did like some tottering engine show : 
Thy hand above did burn and glow, 
Daunting the stoutest hearts, the proudest wits. 

But now that Christ's pure veil presents the sight, 
I see no fears : 
Thy hand is white ; 
Thy scales like buckets, which attend 
And interchangeably descend. 
Lifting to heaven from this well of tears. 



THE CHURCH. 169 

For where before thou still didst call on me, 
Now I still touch 
Aiid harp on tiiee. 
God's promises hath made thee mine : 
"Why should I justice now decline ? 
Against me there is none, but for me much. 



THE PILGRIMAGE. 

I TRAVEL l'd on, Seeing the hill, where lay 
My expectation. 
A long it was and weary way. 
The gloomy cave of Desperation 
I left on the one, and on the other side 

The rock of Pride. 

And so I came to Fancy's meadow, strow'd 
With many a flower : 
Fain would I here have made abode, 
But I was quicken'd by my hour. 
So to Care's copse I came, and there got through 
With much ado. 

That led me to the wild of Passion ; which 
Some call the wold : 
A wasted place, but sometimes rich. 
Here I was robb'd of all my gold, 
Save one good Angel, which a friend had tied 
Close to my side. 



170 Herbert's poems. 

At length I got unto the gladsome hill, 

Where lay my hope, 
Where lay my heart ; and climbing still. 
When I had gain'd the brow and top, 
A lake of brackish waters on the ground 
Was all I found. 

With that abash'd, and struck with many a sting 
Of swarming fears, 
I fell, and cried, Alas, my King ! 
Can both the way and end be tears ? 
Yet, taking heart, I rose, and then perceived 
I was deceived : 

My hill was further : so I flung away. 
Yet heard a cry 
Just as I went, " None goes that way 
And lives." If that be all, said I, 
After so foul a journey death is fair. 
And but a chair. 



THE HOLD-FAST. 

I threaten'd to observe the strict decree 

Of my dear God with all my power and 

might : 
But I was told by one it could not be ; 

Yet I might trust in God to be my light. 



THE CHURCH. 171 

Then will I trust, said I, iii Him alone. 

Nay, e'en to trust in Him, was also His : 
We must confess, that notliing is our own. 

Then I confess that He my succor is : 

But to have nought is ours, not to confess 

That we have nought. I stood amazed at 

this, 
Much troubled, till I heard a friend express. 

That all things were more ours by being His. 
What Adam had, and forfeited for all, 
Christ keepeth now, Who cannot fail or fall. 



COMPLAINING. 

Do not beguile my heart, 

Because Thou art 
My power and wisdom. Put me not to shame, 
Because I am 
Thy clay that weeps. Thy dust that calls. 

Thou art the Lord of glory ; 
The deed and story 
Are both Thy due : but I, a silly fly, 
That live or die. 
According as the weather falls. 

Art thou all justice, Lord ? 

Shows not thy word 



172 Herbert's poems. 

More attributes ? Am I all throat or eye, 
To weep or cry ? 
Have I no parts but those of grief? 

Let not Thy wrathful power 
Afflict my hour, 
My inch of life : or let Thy gracious power 
Contract my hour, 
That I may climb and find relief. 



THE DISCHARGE. 

Busy enquiring heart, what wouldst thou know ? 

Why dost thou pry, 
And turn, and leer, and with a licorous eye 

Look high and low ; 
And in thy lookings stretch and grow ? 

Hast thou not made thy counts, and summ'd up 
all? 

Did not thy heart 
Give up the whole, and with the wliole depart ? 
Let what will fall : 
That which is past who can recall ? 

Thy life is God's, thy time to come is gone, 

And is His right. 
He is thy night at noon : He is at night 
Thy noon alone. 
The crop is His, for he hath sown. 



THE CHURCH. 173 

And well it was for thee, when this befell, 

That God did make 
Thy business His, and in thy life partake : 
For thou canst tell, 
If it be His once, all is well. 

Only the present is thy part and fee. 

And happy thou, 
If, though thou didst not beat thy future brow, 

Thou couldst well see 
What present things required of thee. 

They ask enough ; why shouldst thou further go ? 

Raise not the mud 
Of future depths, but drink the clear and good. 

Dig not for woe 
In times to come ; for it will grow. 

' Man and the present fit : if he provide. 
He breaks the square. 
This hour is mine : if for the next I care, 
I grow too wide, 
And do encroach upon death's side : 

For death each hour environs and surrounds. 

He that would know 
And care for future chances, cannot go 

Unto those grounds. 
But thro' a churchyard which them bounds. 



174 Herbert's poems. 

Things present shrink and die ; but they that spend 

Their thoughts and sense 
On future grief, do not remove it thence, 

But it extend, 
And draw the bottom out an end. 

God chains the dog till night : wilt loose the chain, 

And wake thy sorrow ? 
Wilt thou forestall it, and now grieve to-morrow, 

And then again 
Grieve over freshly all thy pain ? 

Either grief will not come ; or, if it must, 

Do not forecast : 
And while it cometh, it is almost past. 

Away, distrust : 
My God hath promised ; He is just. 



PRAISE. 



King of glory, King of peace, 
I will love Thee ; 

And, that love may never cease, 
I Avill move Thee. 

Thou hast granted my request, 
Thou hast heard me : 

Thou didst note my working breast, 
Thou hast spared me. 



THE CHURCH. 17o 

Wherefore with my utmost art 

I will sing Thee, 
And the cream of all my heart 

I will bring Thee. 

Though my sins against me cried, 

Thou didst clear me ; 
And alone, when they replied, 

Thou didst hear me. 

Seven whole days, not one in seven, 

I will praise Thee. 
In my heart, though not in Heaven, 

I can raise Thee. 

Thou grew'st soft and moist with tears, 

Tiiou relentedst. 
And when justice call'd for fears. 

Thou dissentedst. 

Small it is, in this poor sort 

To enrol Thee : 
E'en eternity is too short 

To extol Thee. 



176 Herbert's poems. 



AN OFFERING. 

Come, bring thy gift. If blessings were as slo\^' 
As men's returns, what would become of fools ? 
What hast thou there ? a heart ? but is it pure ? 
Search well and see ; for hearts have many holes. 
Yet one pure heart is nothing to bestow : 
In Christ two natures met to be thy cure. 

O that within us hearts had propagation, 
Since many gifts do challenge many hearts ! 
Yet one, if good, may title to a number ; 
And single things grow fruitful by deserts. 
In public judgments one may be a nation. 
And fence a plague, while others sleep and slum- 
ber. 

But all I fear is lest thy heart displease. 
As neither good, nor one : so oft divisions 
Thy lusts have made, and not thy lusts alone ; 
Thy passions also have their set partitions. 
These parcel out thy heart : recover these. 
And thou may'st offer many gifts in one. 

There is a balsam, or indeed a blood. 
Dropping from heaven, which doth both cleanse 
and close 



THE CHURCH. 177 

All sorts of wounds ; of such strange force it is. 
Seek out this All-heal, and seek no repose 
Until thou find ; and use it to thy good : 
Then bring thy gift ; and let thy hymn be this : 

Since my sadness 

Into gladness, 
Lord, Thou dost convert, 

O accept 

What Thou hast kept, 
As Thy due desert. 

Had I many. 

Had I any, 
(For this heart is none,) 

All were Thine, 

And none of mine. 
Surely Thine alone. 

Yet Thy favor 

May give savor 
To this poor oblation ; 

And it raise 

To be Thy praise. 
And be my salvation. 



178 Herbert's poems. 



LONGING. 



With sick and famish'd eyes, 
With doubling knees and weary bones, 
To Thee my cries. 
To Thee my groans, 
To Thee my sighs, my tears ascend : 
No end ? 

My throat, my soul, is hoarse ; 
My heart is wither'd like a ground 
Which Thou dost curse. 
My thoughts turn round. 
And make me giddy ; Lord, I fall, 
Yet call. 

From Thee all pity flows. 

Mothers are kind, because Thou art, 

And dost dispose 

To them a part : 

Their infants, them ; and they suck Thee 

More free. 

Bowels of pity, hear ! 
Lord of my soul, love of my mind, 
Bow down Thine ear ! 
Let not the wind 
Scatter my words, and in the same 
Thy name ! 



THE CHURCH. 179 

Look on my sorrows round ! 
Mark well my furnace ! O what flames, 
What heats abound ! 
What griefs, what shames ! 
Consider, Lord ; Lord, bow Thine ear. 
And hear ! 

Lord Jesu, Thou didst bow 
Thy dying Head upon the tree : 
O be not now 
More dead to me ! 
Lord, hear ! Shall He that made the ear 
Not hear ? 

Behold, Thy dust doth stir ; 
It moves, it creeps, it aims at Thee : 
Wilt Thou defer 
To succor me, 
Thy pile of dust, wdierein each crumb 
Says, Come? 

To Thee help appertains. 
Hast Thou left all things to theu' course, 
And laid the reins 
Upon the horse ? 
Is all lock'd ? Hath a sinner's plea 
No key ? 

Indeed, the world 's Thy book, 
Where all thin^js have their leaf assign'd ; 



180 Herbert's poems. 

Yet a meek look 
Hath interlined. 
Thy board is full, yet humble guests 
Fmd nests. 

Thou tarriest, while I die, 
And fall to nothing : Thou dost reign, 
And rule on high, 
While I remain 
In bitter grief: yet am I styled 
Thy child. 

Lord, didst Thou leave Thy throne, 
Not to relieve ? How can it be. 
That Thou art grown 
Thus hard to me ? 
Were sin alive, good cause there were 
To bear. 

But now both sin is dead. 
And all Thy promises live and bide. 
That wants his head ; 
These speak and chide, 
And in Thy bosom pour my tears, 
As theirs. 

Lord Jesu, hear my heart, 
Which hath been broken now so long, 
That every part 
Hath got a tongue ! 



THE CHURCH. 181 

Thy beggars grow ; rid them away 
To-day. 

My love, my sweetness, hear ! 
By these Thy feet, at which my heart 
Lies all the year, 
Pluck out Thy dart, 
And heal my troubled breast which cries, 
Which dies. 



THE BAG. 

Away, Despair ; my gracious Lord doth hear, 
Though winds and waves assault my keel, 
He doth preserve it : He doth steer. 
E'en w^hen the boat seems most to reel. • 
Storms are the triumph of His art : 

Well may He close His eyes, but not His heart. 

Hast thou not heard that my Lord Jesus died ? 

Then let me tell thee a strange story. 

The God of power, as He did ride 

In His majestic robes of glory. 

Resolved to light ; and so one day 
He did descend, undressing all the way. 

The stars His tire of light and rings obtain'd, 
The cloud His bow, the fire His spear, 



182 Herbert's poems. 

The sky His azure mantle gain'd. 
And when they ask'd what He would wear, 
He smiled, and said, as He did go. 
He had new clothes a making here below. 

When He was come, as travellers are wont, 

He did repair unto an inn. 

Both then and after, many a brunt 

He did endure to cancel sin : 

And having given the rest before. 
Here He gave up His life to pay our score. 

But as He was returning, there came one 
That ran upon Him with a spear. 
He who came hither all alone, 
Bringing nor man, nor arms, nor fear, 
Received the blow upon His side. 

And straight He turn'd and to His brethren cried, 

If ye have anything to send or write 
(I have no bag, but here is room) 
Unto My Father's hands and sight, 
(Believe Me,) it shall safely come. 
That I shall mind w^hat you impart. 

Look, you may put it very near My heart. 

Or, if hereafter any of My friends 

Will use Me in this kind, the door 
Shall still be open. What he sends 
I will present, and somewhat more, 



THE CHURCH. 183 

Not to his hurt. Sighs will convey 
Anything to Me. Hark, Despair, away ! 



vTHE JEWS. 

Poor' nation, whose sweet sap and juice 
Our scions have purloin'd, and left you dry ; 
Whose streams we got by the Apostles' sluice 
And use in baptism, while ye pine and die : 
Who, by not keeping once, became a debtor ; 

And now by keeping lose the letter : 

O that my prayers ! mine, alas ! 
O that some Angel might a trumpet sound, 
At which the Church, falling upon her face, 
Should cry so loud, until the trump were drown'd, 
And by that cry of her dear Lord obtain. 

That your sweet sap might come again ! 



THE COLLAR. 

I STRUCK the board, and cried. No more ; 
I will abroad. 
What ? shall I ever sigh and pine ? 
My lines and life are free ; free as the road, 
Loose as the wind, as large as store. 
Shall I be still in suit ? 



184 Herbert's poems. 

Have I no harvest but a thorn 
To let me blood, and not restore 
What I have lost with cordial fruit ? 
Sure there was wine, 
Before my sighs did dry it : there was corn, 

Before my tears did drown it. 
Is the year only lost to me ? 

Have I no bays to crown it ? 
No flowers, no garlands gay ? all blasted ? 
All wasted ? 
Not so, my heart : but there is fruit, 
And thou hast hands. 
Recover all thy sigh-blown age 
On double pleasures ; leave thy cold dispute 
Of what is fit, and not ; forsake thy cage, 

Thy rope of sands, 
Which petty thoughts have made, and made to 
thee 
Good cable, to enforce and draw, 

And be thy law. 
While thou didst wink and wouldst not see. 
Away ; take heed : 
I will abroad. 
Call in thy death's-head there ; tie up thy fears. 
He that forbears 
To suit and serve his need, 
Deserves his load. 
But as I raved and grew more fierce and wild 
At every word, 
Methought I heard one calling. Child ; 
And I replied. My Lord ! 



THE CHURCH. 185 



THE GLIMPSE. 

Whither away, Delight ? 
Thou cam'st but now ; wilt thou so soon depart, 

And give me up to night ? 
For many weeks of lingering pain and smart 
But one half hour of comfort for my heart ? 

Methinks delight should have 
More skill in music, and keep better time. 

Wert thou a wind or wave. 
They quickly go and come with lesser crime : 
Flowers look about, and die not in their prime. 

Thy short abode and stay 
Fe^ds not, but adds to the desire of meat. 

Lime begg'd of old, (they say,) 
A neighbor spring to cool his inward heat ; 
Which by the spring's access grew much more 
great. 

In hope of thee, my heart 
Pick'd here and there a crumb, and would not 
die; 

But constant to his part, 
When as my fears foretold this, did reply, — 
A slender thread a gentle guest will tie. 



186 Herbert's poems. 

Yet, if the heart that wept 
Must let thee go, return when it cloth knock. 

Although thy heap be kept 
For future times, the droppings of the stock 
May oft break forth, and never break the lock. 

If I have more to spin, 
The wheel shall go, so that thy stay be short. 

Thou know'st how grief and sin 
Disturb the work. O make me not their sport, 
Who by thy coming may be made a court ! 



ASSURANCE. 

O SPITEFUL, bitter thought ! 
Bitterly spiteful thought ! Couldst thou invent 
So high a torture ? Is such poison bought ? 
Doubtless, but in the way of punishment. 
When wit contrives to meet with thee, 
No such rank poison can there be. 

Thou saidst, but even now. 
That all was not so fair as I conceived. 
Betwixt ray God and me ; that I allow 
And coin large hopes ; but, that I was deceived : 

Either the league was broke, or near it ; 

And, that I had great cause to fear it. 



THE CHURCil. 187 

And what to this ? What more 
Could poison, if it had a tongue, express ? 
What is thy aim ? Wouldst thou unlock the door 
To cold despairs, and gnaAving pensiveness ? 

Wouldst thou raise devils ? I see, I know, 

I writ thy purpose long ago. 

But I will to my Father, 
Who heard thee say it. O most gracious Lord, 
If all the hope and comfort that I gather, 
Were from myself, I had not half a word. 

Not half a letter to oppose 

What is objected by my foes. 

But Th'ou art my desert : 
And in this league, which now my foes mvade, 
Thou art not only to perform Thy part, 
But also mine ; as, Avhen the league was made, 
Thou didst at once Thyself indite. 
And hold my hand, while I did write. 

Wherefore, if Thou canst fail, 

Then can Thy truth and I : but while rocks stand, 

And rivers stir, Thou canst not shrink or quail : 

Yea, when both rocks and all things shall disband, 

Then shalt Thou be my rock and tower. 

And make their ruin praise Thy power. 

Now, foolish thought, go on, 
Spin out thy thread, and make thereof a coat 



188 Herbert's poems. 

To hide thy shame : for thou hast cast a bone, 
Which bounds on thee, and will not down thy 
throat. 
What for itself love once began, 
Now love and truth will end in man. 



THE CALL. 

Come, my Way, my Truth, my Life ! 
Such a Way, as gives us breath ; 
Such a Truth, as ends all strife ; 
Such a Life, as killeth death. 

Come, my Light, my Feast, my Strength ! 
Such a Light, as shows a feast ; 
Such a Feast, as mends in length ; 
Such a Strength, as makes his guest. 

Come, my Joy, my Love, my Heart ! 
Such a Joy, as none can move ; 
Such a Love, as none can part ; 
Such a Heart, as joys in love. 



CLASPING OF HANDS. 

Lord, Thou art mine, and I am Thine, 
If mine I am ; and Thine much more, 
Than I or ought or can be mine. 
Yet to be Thine, doth me restore ; 



THE CHURCH. 189 

So that again I now am mine, 
And Avith advantage mine the more. 
Since this being mine, brings with it Thine, 
And Thou with me dost Thee restore. 
If I without Thee would be mine, 
I neither should be mine nor Thine. 

Lord, I am Thine, and Thou art mine : 
So mine Thou art, that something more 
I may presume Thee mine, than Thine. 
For Thou didst suffer to restore 
Not Thee, but me, and to be mine : 
And with advantage mine the more. 
Since Thou in death wast none of Thine, 
Yet then as mine didst me restore. 

O be mine still ! still make me Thine ; 

Or rather make no Thine and Mine ! 



PRAISE. 



Lord, I will mean and speak Thy praise, 
Thy praise alone. 
My busy heart shall spin it all my days ; 
And when it stops for want of store, 
Then will I wring it with a sigh or groan. 
That Thou may'st yet have more. 

When Thou dost favor any action, 
It runs, it flies ; 



190 Herbert's poems. 

All things concur to give it a perfection. 
. That which had but two legs before, 
When Thou dost bless, hath twelve : one wheel 
doth rise 

To twenty then, or more. 

But when Thou dost on business blow, 
It hangs, it clogs : 
Not all the teams of Albion in a row 
Can hale or draw it out of door. 
Legs are but stumps, and Pharaoh's wheels but 
logs, 

And struggling hinders more. 

Thousands of things do Thee employ 
In ruling all 
This spacious globe : Angels must have their joy, 

Devils their rod, the sea his shore. 
The winds their stint ; and yet, when I did caU, 
Thou heardst my call, and more. 

I have not lost one single tear : 
But when mine eyes 
Did weep to heaven, they found a bottle there, 

(As we have boxes for the poor,) 
Ready to take them in ; yet of a size 

That would contain much more. 

But after Thou hadst slipt a drop 
From Thy right eye. 



THE CHURCH. 101 

(Which there did hang like streamers near the top 

Of some fair church, to show the sore 
And bloody battle which Thou once didst try,) 
The glass was full and more. 

Wherefore I sing. Yet since my heart, 
Though press'd, runs thin ; 
O that I might some other hearts convert, 

And so take up at use good store ; 
That to Thy chests there might be coming in 
Both all my praise, and more ! 



JOSEPH'S COAT. 

Wounded I sing, tormented I endite. 
Thrown down I fall into a bed, and rest. 
Sorrow hath changed its note : such is His will 
Who changeth all things as Him pleaseth best. 

For well He knows, if but one grief and smart 
Among my many had his full career, 
Sure it would carry with it e'en my heart, 
And both would run until they found a bier 

To fetch the body ; both being due to grief. 
But He hath spoil'd the race ; and given to an- 
guish 
One of joy's coats, 'ticing it with relief 
To linger in me, and together languish. 

I live to show His power. Who once did bring 
My joys to weep, and now my griefs to sing. 



192 Herbert's poems. 



THE PULLEY. 

When God at first made man, 
Having a glass of blessing standing by, 
Let us, said He, pour on him all we can : 
Let the world's riches, which dispersed lie, 

Contract into a span. 

So strength first made a way ; 
Then beauty flow'd ; then wisdom, honor, pleas- 
ure: 
When almost all was out, God made a stay, 
Perceiving that alone, of all His treasure. 

Rest in the bottom lay. 

For if I should, said He, 
Bestow this jewel also on My creature. 
He would adore My gifts instead of Me, 
And rest in nature, not the God of nature : 

So both should losers be. 

Yet let him keep the rest. 
But keep them with repining restlessness : 
Let him be rich and weary, that at least. 
If goodness lead him not, yet weariness 

May toss him to My breast. 



THE CHURCH. 193 



THE PRIESTHOOD. 

Blest Order, which in power doth so excel, 
That with the one hand thou liftest to the sky, 
And with the otlier throwest down to hell 
In thy just censures ; fain would I draw nigh ; 
Fain put thee on, exchanging my lay sword 
For that of the Holy Word. 

But thou art fire, sacred and hallow'd fire ; 
And I but earth and clay : should I presume 
To wear thy habit, the severe attire 
My slender compositions might consume. 
I am both foul and brittle, much unfit 
To deal in Holy Writ. 
« 

Yet have I often seen, by cunning hand 

And force of fire, what curious things are made 

Of wretched earth. Where once I scorn'd to 

stand, 
That earth is fitted by the fire and trade 
Of skilful artists, for the boards of those 

Who make the bravest shows. 

But since those great ones, be they ne'er so great, 
Come from the eartli, from whence those vessels 
come ; 

M 



194 Herbert's poems. 

So that at once both feeder, dish, and meat 
Have one beginning and one final sum ; 
T do not greatly wonder at the sight, 

If earth in earth delight. 

But the holy men of God such vessels are, 
As served Him up. Who all the world commands. 
When God vouchsafeth to become our fare, 
Their hands convey Him, Who conveys their 

hand. 
what pure things, most pure, must those things 

be. 

Who bring my God to me ! 

Wherefore I dare not, I, put forth my hand 
To hold the Ark, although it seem to shake 
Through the old sins and new doctrines of our 

land. 
Only, since God doth often vessels make 
Of lowly matter for high uses meet, 

I throw me at His feet. 

There will I lie, until my Maker seek 
For some mean stuff whereon to show His skill : 
Then is my time. The distance of the meek 
Doth flatter power. Lest good come short of ill 
In praising might, the poor do by submission 
What pride by opposition. 



THE CHURCH. 



195 



THE SEARCH. 

Whither, O, whither art Thou fled, 

My Lord, my Love ? 

My searches are my daily bread ; 

Yet never prove. 

My knees pierce the earth, mine eyes the sky ; 

And yet the sphere 
And centre both to me deny 

That Thou art there. 

Yet can I mark how herbs below 

Grow green and gay ; 

As if to meet Thee they did know, 

While I decay. 

Yet can I mark how stars above 

Simper and shine. 

As having keys unto Thy love, 

While poor I pine. 

I sent a sigh to seek Thee out, 

Deep drawn in pain, 
Wing'd like an arrow ; but my scout 

Returns in vain. 



196 Herbert's poems. 

I turn'd another (having store) 

Intp a groan, 

Because the search was dumb before ; 
But all was one. 

Lord, dost Thou some new fabric mould, 
Which favor wins, 

And keeps Thee present, leaving the old 
Unto their sins ? 

Where is my God ? What hidden place 
Conceals Thee still ? 

What covert dare eclipse Thy face ? 
Is it Thy will ? 

O, let not that, of anything ! 

Let rather brass, 
Or steel, or mountains be Thy ring ; 

And I will pass. 

Thy will such an intrenching is. 

As passeth thought : 

To it all strength, all subtilties 

Are things of nought. 

Thy will such a strange distance is, 
As that to it 

East and West touch, the poles do kiss. 

And parallels meet. 



THE CHURCH. 197 

Since then my grief must be as large 
As is Thy space, 

Thy distance from me ; see my charge, 
Lord, see my case. 

O take these bars, these lengths, away ; 

Turn, and restore me : 
Be not Almighty, let me say. 

Against, but for me. 

When Thou dost turn, and wilt be near, 
What edge so keen. 

What point so piercing can appear 

To come between ? 

For as Thy absence doth excel 

All distance known. 

So doth Thy nearness bear the bell, 

Making two one. 



GRIEF. 



O WHO will give me tears ? Come, all ye springs, 
Dwell in my head and eyes ; come, clouds and 

rain : 
My grief hath need of all the watery things 
That nature hath produced. Let every vein 



198 Herbert's poems. 

Suck up a river to supply mine eyes, 
My weary weeping eyes too dry for me, 
Unless they get new conduits, new supplies, 
To bear them out, and with ray state agree. 
What are two shallow fords, two little spouts 
Of a less world ? The greater is but small, 
A narrow cupboard for my griefs and doubts. 
Which want provision in the midst of all. 
Verses, ye are too fine a thing, too wise 
For my rough sorrows : cease, be dumb and 

mute ; 
Give up your feet and running to mine eyes. 
And keep your measures for some lover's lute. 
Whose grief allows him music and a rhyme ; 
For mine excludes both measure, tune, and time. 
Alas, my God ! 



THE CKOSS. 

What is this strange and uncouth thing 
To make me sigh, and seek, and faint, and die, 
Until I had some place where I might sing. 

And serve Thee ; and not only I, 
But all my wealth and family might combine 
To set Thy honor up, as our design. 

And then, when, after much delay. 
Much wrestling, many a combat, this dear end, 



THE CHURCH. 199 

So much desired, is given, to take away 

My power to serve Thee ; to unbend 
All my abilities, my designs confomid, 
And lay my threatenings bleeding on the ground. 

One ague dwelleth in my bones. 
Another in my soul (the memory 
What I would do for Thee, if once my groans 

Could be allowed for harmony) : 
I am in all a weak, disabled thing, 
Save in the sight thereof, where strength doth 
sting. • 

Besides, things sort not to my will. 
E'en when my will doth study Thy renown : 
Thou turnest the edge of all things on me 
still. 

Taking me up to throw me down : 
So that, e'en when my hopes seem to be sped, 
I am to grief alive, to them as dead. 

To have my aim, and yet to be 
Farther from it than when I bent my bow ; 
To make my hopes my torture, and the fee 

Of all my woes another woe. 
Is in the midst of delicates to need. 
And e'en in Paradise to be a weed. 

Ah, my dear Father, ease my smart ! 
These contrarieties crush me ; these cross actions 



200 Herbert's poems. 

Do wind a rope about, and cut my heart : 

And yet, (since these Thy contradictions 
Are properly a cross felt by Thy Son, 
With but four words, my words,) Thy will be 
done. 



THE FLOWER. 

How fresh, O Lord, how sweet and clean 
Are Thy returns ! e'en as the flowers in spring ; 

To which, besides their own demean, 
The late-past frosts tributes of pleasure bring. 
Grief melts away 
Like snow in May, 
As if there were no such cold thing. 

Who would have thought my shrivel'd heart 
Could have recover'd greenness? It was gone 

Quite under ground ; as flowers depart 
To see their mother-root, when they have blown ; 
Where they together. 
All the hard weather. 
Dead to the world, keep house unknown. 



These are Thy wonders, Lord of power, 
Killing and quickening, bringing down to hell 

And up to heaven in an hour ; 
Making a chiming of a passing bell. 
We say amiss. 
This or that is : 
Thy word is all, if we could spell. 



THE CHURCH. 201 

that I once past changing were, 

Fast in Thy Paradise, where no flower can wither ! 

Many a spring I shoot up fair, 
Offering at heaven, growing and gi'oaning thither ; 
Nor doth my flower 
"Want a spring-shower, 
My sins and I joining together. 

But while I grow in a straight line. 
Still upwards bent, as if heaven were mine own, 

Thy anger comes, and I decline : 
What frost to that ? what pole is not the zone 
Where all things burn. 
When Thou dost turn, 
And the least frown of Thine is shown ? 

And now in age I bud again, 
After so many deaths I live and write ; 

1 once more smell the dew and rain. 
And relish versing : O my only Light, 

It cannot be 
That I am he 
On whom Thy tempests fell at night. 

These are Thy wonders. Lord of love. 
To make us see we are but flowers that glide ; 
Which when we once can find and prove, 
Thou hast a garden for us, where to bide. 
Who would be more. 
Swelling through store, 
Forfeit their Paradise by their pride. 



202 Herbert's poems. 



DOTAGE. 

False, glozing pleasures, casks of happiness. 
Foolish night-fires, women's and children's wishes, 
Chases in arras, gilded emptiness, 
Shadows well mounted, dreams in a career, 
Embroider'd lies, nothing between two dishes ; 
These are the pleasures here. 

True, earnest sorrows, rooted miseries, 
Anguish in grain, vexations ripe and blown, 
Sure-footed griefs, solid calamities. 
Plain demonstrations, evident and clear. 
Fetching their proofs e'en from the very bone ; 
These are the sorrows here. 

But the folly of distracted men, 
Who griefs in earnest, joys in jest pursue ; 
Preferring, like brute beasts, a loathsome den 
Before a court, e'en that above so clear, 
Where are no sorrows, but delights more true 
Than miseries are here ! 



THE CHURCH. 203 



THE SON. 



Let foreign nations of their language boast, 
What fine variety each tongue affords : 
I like our language, as our men and coast ; 
Who cannot dress it well, want wit, not words. 
How neatly do we give one only name 
To parents' issue and the sun's bright star ! 
A son is light and fruit ; a fruitful flame, 
Chasing the father's dimness ; carried far 
From the first man in the east, to fresh and new 
Western discoveries of posterity. 
So, in one word, our Lord's humility 
We turn upon Him in a sense most true ; 
For what Christ once in humbleness began, 
We Him in glory call. The Son of Man. 



A TKUE HYMN. 

My Joy, my Life, my Crown ! 
My heart was meaning all the day. 
Somewhat it fain would say ; 
And still it runneth, muttering up and down. 
With only this. My Joy, my Life, my Crown ! 

Yet slight not these few words ; 
If truly said, they may take part 



204 Herbert's poems. 

Among the best in art. 
The fineness which a hymn or psalm affords, 
Is, when the soul unto the lines accords. 

He who craves all the mind, 
And all the soul, and strength, and time. 
If the words only rhyme. 
Justly complains, that somewhat is behind 
To make his verse, or write a hymn in kind. 

Whereas if the heart be moved. 
Although the verse be somewhat scant, 

God doth supply the want. 
As when the heart says, (sighing to be approved,) 
O, could I love ! and stops ; God writeth, Loved. 



THE ANSWER. 

My comforts drop and melt away like snow : 
I shake my head, and all the tlioughts and ends. 
Which my fierce youth did bandy, fall and flow 
Like leaves about me, or like summer friends, 
Flies of estates and sunshine. But, to all 
Who think me eager, hot, and undertaking, 
But in my prosecutions slack and small ; 
As a young exhalation, newly waking, 
Scorns his first bed of dirt, and means the sky ; 
But cooling by the way, grows pursy and slow, 



THE CHURCH. 205 

And settling to a cloud, doth live and die 
In that dark state of tears : to all, that so 
Show me, and set me, I have one reply, 
Which they that know the rest, know more than I. 



A DIALOGUE-ANTHEM. 

CHRISTIAN. DEATH. 

Chr. Alas, poor Death ! where is thy glory ? 

Where is thy famous force, thy ancient 
sting ? 
Dea. Alas, poor mortal, void of story ! 

Go spell and read how I have kill'd thy 
King. 
Chr. Poor Death ! and who was hurt thereby ? 
Thy curse being laid on Him makes thee 
accurst. 
Dea. Let losers talk, yet thou shalt die : 

These arms shall crush thee. 
Chr. Spare not, do thy worst. 

I shall be one day better than before ; 
Thou so much worse, that thou shalt be no 
more. 



206 Herbert's poems. 



THE WATER-COURSE. 

Thou who dost dwell and linger here below, 

Since the condition of this world is frail, 

Where, of all plants, afflictions soonest grow ; 

If troubles overtake thee, do not wail : 

(Life? 
For who can look for less, that loveth ) c^ -f ? 

But rather turn the pipe, and water's course 
To serve thy sins, and furnish thee with store 
Of sovereign tears, springing from true remorse : 
That so in pureness thou mayst Him adore 

( Salvation. 
Who gives to man, as He sees fit, | j),^jnnation 



SELF-CONDEMNATION. 

Thou who condemnest Jewish hate 
For choosing Barabbas a murderer 

Before the Lord of glory, ^ 

Look back upon thine own estate, 
Call home thine eye, that busy wanderer, 
That choice may be thy story. 



THE CHURCH. 207 

He that doth love, and love amiss 
This world's delights before true Christian joy, 
Hath made a Jewish choice : 
The world an ancient murderer is ; 
Thousands of souls it hath and doth destroy 
With her enchanting voice. 

He that hath made a sorry wedding 
Between his soul and gold, and hath preferr'd 
False gain before the true. 
Hath done what he condemns in reading : 
For he hath sold for money his dear Lord, 
And is a Judas- Jew. 

Thus we prevent the last great day, 
And judge ourselves. That light which sin and 
passion 

Did before dim and choke, 
When once those snuffs are ta'en away. 
Shines bright and clear, e'en unto condemnation, 
Without excuse or cloak. 



BITTER-SWEET. 

Ah, my dear angry Lord, 
Since Thou dost love, yet strike ; 
Cast down, yet help afford ; 
Sure I will do the like. 



208 Herbert's poems. 

I will complain, yet praise ; 
I will bewail, approve ; 
And all my sour-sweet days 
I will lament, and love. 



THE GLANCE. 

When first Thy sweet and gracious eye 
Vouchsafed e'en in the midst of youth and night 
To look upon me, who before did lie 
Weltering in sin ; 
I felt a sugar'd, strange delight, 
Passing all cordials made by any art, 
Bedew, embalm, and overrun my heart, 
And take it in. 

Since that time many a bitter storm 
My soul hath felt, e'en able to destroy. 
Had the malicious and ill-meaning harm 
His swing and sway : 
But still Thy sweet original joy. 
Sprung from Thine eye, did work within my soul, 
And surging griefs, when they grew bold, control, 
And got the day. 

If Thy first glance so powerful be, 
A mirth but open'd and seal'd up again, 



THE CHURCH. 209 

Wliat wonders shall we feel, when we shall see 
Thy full-eyed love ! 
When Thou shalt look us out of pain, 
And one aspect of Thine spend in delight 
More than a thousand suns disburse in light, 
In Heaven above. 



THE TWENTY-THIRD PSALM. 

The God of love my shepherd is. 
And He that doth me feed : 

While He is mine, and I am His, 
What can I want or need ? 

He leads me to the tender grass, 
Where I both feed and rest ; 

Then to the streams that gently pass 
In both I have the best. 

Or, if I stray, He doth convert. 
And bring my mind in frame : 

And all this not for my desert. 
But for His holy name. 

Yea, in death'^ shady black abode 
Well may I walk, not fear ; 

For Thou art with me, and Thy rod 
To guide, Thy staff to bear. 

N 



210 Herbert's poems. 

Nay, Thou dost make me sit aiid dine, 
E'en in my enemies' sight : 

My head with oil, my cup with wine 
Runs over day and night. 

Surely Thy sweet and wondrous love 
Shall measure all my days ; 

And, as it never shall remove, 
So neither shall my praise. 



MAEY MAGDALEN. 

When blessed Mary wiped her Saviour's feet, 
(Whose precepts she had trampled on before,) 
And wore them for a jewel on her head. 

Showing His steps should be the street, 

Wherein she thenceforth evermore 
With pensive humbleness would live and tread : 

She being stain'd herself, why did she strive 

To make Him clean. Who could not be defiled ? 

Why kept she not her tears for her own faults, 
And not His feet? Though we could dive 
In tears like seas, our sins are piled 

Deeper than they in words, and works, and 
thoughts. 



Dear soul, she knew Who did vouchsafe and deign 
To bear her filth, and that her sins did dash 



THE CHURCH. 211 

E'en God Himself: wherefore she was not loath, 
As she had brought wherewith to stain, 
So to bring in wherewith to wash ; 

And yet in washing one, she washed both. 



AARON. 



Holiness on the head ; 
Light and perfections on the breast ; 
Harmonious bells below, raising the dead 
To lead them unto life and rest : 
Thus are true Aarons drest. 

Profaneness in my head ; 
Defects and darkness in my breast ; 
A noise of passions ringing me for dead 
Unto a place where is no rest: 

Poor Priest ! thus am I drest. 

Only another head 
I have ; another heart and breast ; 
Another music, making live, not dead ; 
Without Whom I could have no rest : 

In Him I am well drest. 

Christ is my only head ; 
My alone only heart and breast ; 
My only music, striking me e'en dead ; 
That to the old man I may rest, 
And be in Him new drest. 



212 Herbert's poems. 

So, holy in my head ; 
Perfect and light in my dear breast ; 
My doctrine tuned by Christ, who is not dead, 
But lives in me while I do rest : 

Come, people : Aaron 's drest. 



THE ODOE. 

2 COR. II. 

How sweetly doth My Master sound ! My Master ! 

As ambergris leaves a rich scent 
Unto the taster, 

So do these words a sweet content, 
An oriental fragrancy. My Master. 

With these all day I do perfume my mind, 
My mind e'en thrust into them both ; 

That I might find 
What cordials make this curious broth. 

This broth of smells that feeds and fats my mind. 

My Master, shall I speak ? O that to Thee 

My Servant were a little so. 
As flesh may be ; 

That these two words might creep and grow 
To some degree of spiciness to Thee ! 



THE CHURCH. 213 

Then should the pomander, which was before 
A speaking sweet, mend by reflection, 

And tell me more : 
For pardon of my imperfection 

Would warm and work it sweeter than before. 

For when My Master, which alone is sweet, 
And e'en in my unworthiness pleasing, 

Shall call and meet 
My Servant, as Thee not displeasing. 

That call is but the breathing of the sweet. 

This breathing would with gains, by sweetening me, 
(As sweet things traffic when thy meet,) 

Return to Thee : 
And so this new commerce and sweet 

Should all my life employ, and busy me. 



THE FOIL. 

If we could see below 
The sphere of virtue, and each shining grace. 

As plainly as that above doth show ; 
This were the better sky, the brighter place. 

God hath made stars the foil 
To set off virtues ; griefs to set off sinning : 

Yet in this wretched world we toil. 
As if grief were not foul, nor virtue winning. 



214 Herbert's poems. 



THE FORERUNNERS. 

The liarbingers are come. See, see their mark : 
"White is their color, and behold my head. 
But must they have my brain ? must they dispark 
Those sparkling notions which therein were bred? 

Must duhiess turn me to a clod ? 
Yet have they left me, Thou art still my God. 

Good men ye be, to leave me my best room, 
E'en all my heart, and what is lodged there : 
I pass not, I, what of the rest become, 
So, Thou art still my God, be out of fear. 

He will be pleased with that ditty ; 
And, if I please Him, I write fine and witty. 

Farewell, sweet phrases, lovely metaphors : 
But will ye leave me thus ? When ye before 
Of stews and brothels only knew the doors. 
Then did I wash you with my tears, and, more, 

Brought you to church well drest and clad : 
My God must have my best, e'en all I had. 

Lovely, enchanting language, sugar-cane, 
Honey of roses, whither wilt thou fly ? 
Hath some fond lover 'ticed thee to thy bane ? 
And wilt thou leave the church, and love a sty? 

Fy, thou wilt soil thy broider'd coat. 
And hurt thyself, and him that sings the note. 



THE CHURCH. 215 

Let foolish lovers, if they will love clung, 
With canvas, not with arras, clothe their shame : 
J^et folly speak in her own native tongue. 
True beauty dwells on high : ours is a flame 
But borrow'd thence to light us thither. 
Beauty and beauteous words should go together. 

Yet if you go, I pass not ; take your way : 
For, Thou art still my God, is all that ye 
Perhaps with more embellishment can say. 
Go, birds of spring ; let winter have his fee ; 

Let a bleak paleness chalk the door, 
So all within be livelier than before. 



THE ROSE. 

Press me not to take more pleasure 
In this world of sugar'd lies, 

And to use a larger measure 

Than my strict, yet welcome size. 

First, there is no pleasure here : 

Color'd griefs indeed there are, 

Blushing woes, that look as clear 
As if tliey could beauty spare. 

Or, if such deceits there be. 

Such delights I meant to say ; 



216 Herbert's poems. 

There are no such things to me, 

Who have pass'd my right awaj. 

But I will not much oppose 

Unto what you now advise : 

Only take this gentle rose, 

And therein my answer lies. 

What is fairer than a rose ? 

What is sweeter ? yet it purgeth. 
Purgings enmity disclose, 

Enmity forbearance urgeth. 

If then all that worldlings prize 
Be contracted to a rose ; 

Sweetly there indeed it lies, 
But it bitetli in the close. 

So this flower doth judge and sentence 
Worldly joys to be a scourge ; 

For they all produce repentance, 
And repentance is a purge. 

But I health, not physic, choose : 
Only though I you oppose, 

Say that fairly I refuse ; 

For my answer is a rose. 



THE CHURCH. 21 



DISCIPLINE. 

Throw away Thy rod, 
Throw away Thy wrath : 

my God, 
Take the gentle path. 

For my heart's desire 
Unto Thine is bent : 

1 aspire 
To a full consent. 

Not a word or look 
I affect to own, 

But by book, 
And Thy book alone. 

Though I fail, I weep ; 
Though I halt in pace, 

Yet I creep 
To the throne of grace. 

Then let wrath remove : 
Love will do the deed ; 

For ^vith love 
Stony hearts will bleed. 



218 Herbert's poems. 

Love is swift of foot ; 
Love 's a man of war, 

And can shoot, 
And can hit from far. 

Who can 'scape his bow ? 
That which wrought on Thee, 
Brought Thee low. 
Needs must work on me. 

Throw^ away Thy rod ; 
Though man frailties hath, 
Thou art God : 
Throw away Thy wrath. 



THE INVITATION. 

Come ye hither, all whose taste 

Is your waste ; 

Save your cost, and mend your fare. 

God is here prepared and dress'd. 

And the feast, 

God, in whom all dainties are. 

Come ye hither, all whom wine 

Doth define, 

Naming you not to your good : 

Weep what ye have drunk amiss. 

And drink this. 

Which, before ye drink, is blood. 



THE CHURCH. 219 

Come ye hither, all whom pain 

Doth arraign, 

Bringing all yonr sins to sight : 

Taste and fear not ; God is here 

In this cheer, 

And on sin doth cast the fright. 

Come ye hither, all whom joy 

Doth destroy, 

While ye graze without your bomids : 

Here is joy that drowneth quite 

Your delight. 

As a flood the lower grounds. 

Come ye hither, all whose love 

Is your dove, 

And exalts you to the sky : 

Here is love, which, having breath 
E'en in death. 

After death can never die. 

Lord, I have invited all, 

And I shall 

Still invite, still call to Thee ; 

For it seems but just and right 

In my sight, 

Where is all, there all should be. 



220 Herbert's poems. 



THE BANQUET. 

Welcome, sweet and sacred cheer ; 

Welcome dear ; 
With me, in me, live and dwell : 
For thy neatness passeth sight ; 

Thy delight 
Passeth tongue to taste or tell. 

O what sweetness from the bowl 

Fills my soul, 
Such as is, and makes divine ! 
Is some star (fled from the sphere) 

Melted there, 
As we sugar melt in wine ? 

Or hath sweetness in the bread 

Made a head 
To subdue the smell of sin, 
Flowers, and gums, and powders giving 

All their living, 
Lest the enemy should win ? 

Doubtless neither star nor flower 
Hath the power 

Such a sweetness to impart ; 

Only God, who gives perfumes, 
Flesh assumes, 

And with it perfumes my heart. 



THE CHTJRCH. 221 

But as pomanders and wood 

Still are good, 
Yet, being bruised, are better scented ; 
God, to show how far His love 

Could hnprove, 
Here, as broken, is presented. 

When I had forgot my bii'th, 

And on earth 
In delights of earth was drown'd, 
God took blood, and needs would be 

Spilt with me. 
And so found me on the gi^ound. 

Having raised me to look up, 

In a cup 
Sweetly He doth meet my taste. 
But, I still being low and short. 

Far from court. 
Wine becomes a wing at last. 

For with it alone I fly 

To the sky ; 
Where I wipe mine eyes, and see 
What I seek, for what I sue : 

Him I view 
Who hath done so much for me. 

Let the wonder of this pity 
Be my ditty. 



222 Herbert's poems. 

And take up my lines and life : 
Hearken unto pain of death, 

Hands and breath, 
Strive in this, and love the strife. 



THE POSY. 

Let wits contest, 
And with their words and posies windows fill : 

Less than the least 
Of all Thy mercies, is my posy still. 

This on my ring, 
This by my picture, in my book I write : 

Whether I sing, 
Or say, or dictate, this is my delight. 

Invention, rest ; 
Comparisons, go play ; wit, use thy will : 

Less than the least 
Of all God's mercies, is my posy still. 



A PARODY. 

Soul's joy, when Thou art gone, 

And I alone ; 

Which cannot be. 
Because Thou dost abide with me, 
And I depend on Thee : 



THE CHURCH. 223 

Yet, when Thou dost suppress 

The cheerfuhiess 

Of Thy abode, 
And in my powers not stir abroad, 
But leave me to my load ; 

O what a damp and shade 

Doth me invade ! 

No stormy night 
Can so afflict, or so alfright, 
As Thy eclipsed light. 

Ah, Lord ! do not withdraw, 

Lest want of awe 

Make sin appear ; 
And when Thou dost but shine less clear, 
Say that Thou art not here. 

And then wliat life I have, 

(While sin doth rave, 

And falsely boast. 
That I may seek, but Thou art lost,) 
Thou, and alone Thou, know'st. 

O what a deadly cold 

Doth me infold ! 

I half believe 
That sin says true : but while I grieve, 
Thou com'st and dost relieve. 



224 Herbert's poems. 



THE ELIXIR. 

Teach me, my God and King, 
In all things Thee to see, 
And what I do ,in anythmg, 
To do it as for Thee : 

Not rudely, as a beast,* 
To run into an action ; 
But still to make Thee prepossest, 
And give it his perfection. 

A man that looks on glass. 
On it may stay his eye ; 
Or if he pleaseth, through it pass, 
And then the heaven espy. 

All may of Thee partake : 
Nothing can be so mean, 
Which with this tincture (for Thy sake) 
Will not grow bright and clean. 

A servant with this clause 
Makes drudgery divine : 
Who sweeps a room, as for Thy laws, 
Makes that and th' action fine. 



THE CHURCH. 225 

This is the famous stone 
That turneth all to gold : 
For that which God doth touch and own 
Cannot for less be told. 



A WREATH. 

A WREATHED garland of deserved praise, 
Of praise deserved, unto Thee I give ; 
I give to Thee, who knowest all my ways, 
My crooked winding w^ays, wherein I live ; 
Wherein I die, not live ; for life is straight, 
Straight as a line, and ever tends to Thee, — 
To Thee, who art more far above deceit, 
Than deceit seems above simplicity. 
Give me simplicity, that I may live. 
So live and like, that I may know Thy ways. 
Know them ahd practise them : then shall I give 
For this poor wreath, give Thee a crown of praise. 



DEATH. 



Death, thou wast once an uncouth hideous thins:, 
Nothing but bones. 
The sad effect of sadder groans : 
Thy mouth was open, but thou couldst not sing, 
o 



226 Herbert's poems. 

For we considered thee as at some six 
Or ten years hence, 
After the loss of life and sense, 
Flesh being turn'd to dust, and bones to sticks. 

We look'd on this side of thee, shooting short ; 
Where we did find 
The shells of fledge souls left behind, 
Dry dust, which sheds no tears, but may extort. 

But since our Saviour's death did put some blood 
Into thy face, 
Thou art grown fair and full of grace, 
Much in request, much sought for, as a good. 

For we do now behold thee gay and glad, 
As at doomsday ; 
When souls shall wear their new array, 
And all thy bones with beauty shall be clad. 

Therefore we can go die as sleep, and trust 
Half that we have 
Unto an honest faithful grave ; 
Making our pillows either down or dust. 



THE CHURCH. 227 



DOOMSDAY. 



Come away, 
Make no delay. 
Summon all the dust to rise, 
Till it stir, and rub the eyes ; 
While this member jogs the other, 
Each one whispering, Live you, Brother ? 

Come away. 
Make this the day. 
Dust, alas ! no music feels. 
But thy trumpet : then it kneels, 
As peculiar notes and strains 
Cure Tarantula's raging pains. 

Come away, 
O make no stay ! 
Let the graves make their confession. 
Lest at length they plead possession : 
Flesh's stubbornness may have 
Read that lesson to the grave. 

Come away. 
Thy flock doth stray. 
Some to the winds their body lend, 
And in them may drown a friend : 
Some in noisome vapors grow 
To a plague and public woe. 



228 Herbert's poems. 

Come away, 
Help onr decay. 
Man is out of order hurl'd, 
Parcell'd out to all the world. 
Lord, Thy broken concert raise, 
And the music shall be praise. 



JUDGMENT. 

Almighty Judge, how shall poor wretches brook 

Thy dreadful look. 
Able a heart of iron to appall, 

When Thou shalt call 
For every man's peculiar book ? 

What others mean to do, I know not well ; 

Yet I hear tell, 
That some will turn Thee to some leaves therein 

So void of sin, 
That they in merit shall excel. 

But I resolve, when Thou shalt call for mine. 

That to decline. 
And thrust a Testament into Thy hand : 

Let that be scann'd. 
There Thou shalt find my faults are Thine. 



THE CHURCH. 229 



HEAVEN. 

WHO will show me those delights on high ? 

Echo, I. 

Thou, Echo ? thou art mortal, all men know. 

Echo. No. 

Wert thou not born among the trees and leaves ? 

Echo. Leaves. 

And are there any leaves that still abide ? 

Echo. Bide. 

What leaves are they ? impart the matter wholly. 

Echo. Holy. 

Are holy leaves the echo then of bliss ? 

Echo. Yes. 

Then tell me, what is that supreme delight ? 

Echo. Light. 

Light to the mind : what shall the will enjoy ? 

Echo. Joy. 

But are there cares and business with the pleasure ? 

Echo. Leisure. 

Light, joy, and leisure ; but shall they perse ver ? 

Echo, Ever. 



230 Herbert's poems. 



LOVE. 

Love bade me welcome : yet my soul drew back, 
Guilty of dust and sin. 

But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack 
From my first entrance in, 

Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning 
If I lack'd anything. 

A guest, I answer'd, worthy to be here : 

Love said. You shall be he. 

I, the unkind, ungrateful ? Ah, my dear, 
I cannot look on thee. 

Love took my hand, and smiling did reply. 
Who made the eyes but I ? 

Truth, Lord, but I have marr d them : let my shame 
Go where it doth deserve. 

And know you not, says Love, who bore the blame ? 
My dear, then I will serve. 

You must sit down, says Love and taste my meat : 
So I did sit and eat. 



GLORY BE TO GOD ON HIGH, AND ON EARTH PEACE, GOOD 
WILL TOWARDS MEN. 



231 



THE CHURCH MILITANT. 



Almighty Lord, who from Thy glorious throne 
Seest and rulest all things e'en as one ; 
The smallest ant or atom knows Thy power, 
KJnown also to each minute of an hour : 
Much more do commonweals acknowledge Thee, 
And wrap their policies in Thy decree, 
Complying with Thy counsels, doing nought 
Which doth not meet with an eternal thought. 
But, above all, Thy Church and Spouse doth prove 
Not the decrees of power, but bands of love. 
Early didst Thou arise to plant this Vine, 
Which might the more endear it to be Thine. 
Spices come from the East ; so did Thy Spouse, 
Trim as the light, sweet as the laden boughs 
Of Noah's shady vine, chaste as the dove. 
Prepared and fitted to receive Thy love. 
The course was westward, that the sun might light 
As well our understanding as our sight. 
Where the ark did rest, there Abraham began 
To bring the other ark from Canaan. 
Mo>es pursued this : But king Solomon 
Finish'd and fix'd the old relidon. 



232 Herbert's poems. 

When it grew loose, the Jews did hope in vain 
By nailing Christ to fasten it again. 
But to the Gentiles He bore cross and all, 
Rending with earthquakes the partition-wall. 
Only whefeas the ark in glory shone, 
Now with the cross, as with a staff, alone, 
Religion, like a pilgrim, westward bent. 
Knocking at all doors, ever as she went. 
Yet as the sun, though forward be his flight, 
Listens behind him, and allows some light. 
Till all depart, so went the Church her way, 
Letting, while one foot stept, the other stay 
Among the eastern nations for a time. 
Till both removed to the western clime. 
To Egypt first she came, where they did prove 
Wonders of anger once, but now of love. 
The ten commandments there did flourish more 
Than the ten bitter plagues had done before. 
Holy Macarius and great Anthony 
Made Pharaoh Moses, changing the history. 
Goshen was darkness ; Egypt full of lights ; 
Nilus for monsters brought forth Israelites. 
Such power hath mighty Baptism to produce, 
For things misshapen, things of highest use. 
How dear to me, God, Thy counsels are ! 

Who may with Thee compare ? 
Religion thence fled into Greece, where arts 
Gave her the highest place in all men's hearts. 
Learning was posed, philosophy was set, 
Sophisters taken in a fisher's net. 



THE CHURCH MILITANT. 233 

Plato and Aristotle were at a loss, 

And wlieel'd about again to spell Christ's-cross. 

Prayers chased syllogisms into their den, 

And Ergo was transform'd into Amen. 

Though Greece took horse as soon as Egypt did, 

And Rome as both, yet Egypt faster rid. 

And spent her period and prefixed time 

Before the other. Greece being past her prime, 

Religion went to Rome, subduing those, 

Who, that they might subdue, made all their foes.. 

The warrior his dear scars no more resounds, 

But seems to yield Christ hath the greater wounds ; 

Wounds willingly endured to work his bliss. 

Who by an ambush lost his Paradise. 

The great heart stoops, and taketh from the dust 

A sad repentance, not the spoils of lust ; 

Quitting his spear, lest it should pierce again 

Him in his members. Who for him was slain. 

The shepherd's hook grew to a sceptre here. 

Giving new names and numbers to the year. 

But the empire dwelt In Greece, to comfort them. 

Who were cut short in Alexander's stem. 

In both of these prowess and arts did tame 

And tune men's hearts against the Gospel came : 

Which using, and not fearing skill in the one, 

Or strength in the other, did erect her throne. 

Many a rent and struggling the empire knew, 

(As dying things are wont,) until it flew 

At length to Germany, still westward bendino 

And there the Church's festival attending ; 



234 HERBERT'S POEMS. 

That, as before empire and arts made way, 
(For no less harbingers would serve than they,) 
So they might still, and point us out the place, 
Where first the Church should raise her downcast 

face. 
Strength levels grounds, art makes a garden there ; 
Then showers Religion, and makes all to bear. 
Spain in the empire shared with Germany, 
But England in the higher victory ; 
Giving the Clmrch a crown to keep her state. 
And not go less than she had done of late. 
Constantine's British line meant this of old. 
And did this mystery wrap up and fold 
Within a sheet of paper, which was rent 
From time's great chronicle, and hither sent. 
Thus both the Church and Sun together ran 
Unto the farthest old meridian. 
How dear to me, O God, Thy counsels are ! 

Who may with Thee compare ? 
Much about one and the same time and place. 
Both where and when the Church began her race, 
Sin did set out of Eastern Babylon, 
And travell'd westward also. Journeying on. 
He chid the Church away, where'er he came. 
Breaking her peace, and tainting her good name. 
At first he got to Egypt, and did sow 
Gardens of gods, which every year did grow 
Fresh and fine deities. They were at great cost, 
Who for a god clearly a sallet lost. 
Ah, what a thing is man devoid of grace, 



THE CHURCH MILITANT. 235 

Adoring garlic with an humble face, 

Begging his food of that which he may eat, 

Starving the while he worshippeth his meat ! 

Who makes a root his god, how low is he, 

If God and man be sever'd infinitely ! 

What wretchedness can give him any room, ' 

Whose house is foul, while he adores- his broom ? 

None will believe this now, though money be 

In us the same transplanted foolery. 

Thus Sin in Egypt sneaked for a while ; 

His highest was an ox or crocodile, 

And such poor game. Thence he to Greece doth 

pass ; 
And, being craftier much than Goodness was, 
He left behind him garrisons of sins. 
To make good that which every day he wins. 
Here Sin took heart, and for a garden-bed 
Rich shrines and oracles he purchased : 
He grew a gallant, and would needs foretell 
As well what should befall as what befell. 
Nay, he became a poet, and would serve 
His pills of sublimate in that conserve. 
The world came both with hands and purses full 
To this great lottery, and all would pull. 
But all was glorious cheating, brave deceit. 
Where some poor truths were shuffled for a bait 
To credit him, and to discredit those 
Who after him should braver truths disclose. 
From Greece he went to Rome ; and as before 
He was a god, now he 's an emperor. 



236 Herbert's poems. 

Nero and others lodged him bravely there, 
Put him in trust to rule the Roman sphere. 
Glory was his chief instrument of old : 
Pleasure succeeded straight, when that grew cold : 
Which soon was blown to such a mighty flame, 
That, though our Saviour did destroy the game, 
Disparking oracles, and all their treasure. 
Setting affliction to encounter pleasure ; 
Yet did a rogue, with hope of carnal joy. 
Cheat the most subtle nations. Who so coy. 
So trim, as Greece and Egypt ? yet their hearts 
Are given over, for their curious arts. 
To such Mahometan stupidities. 
As the old Heathen would deem prodigies. 
How dear to me, O God, thy counsels are ! 

Who may with Thee compare ? 
Only the West and Rome do keep them free 
From this contagious infidelity. 
And this is all the rock whereof they boast. 
As Rome will one day find unto her cost. 
Sin, being not able to extirpate quite 
The Churches here, bravely resolved one night 
To be a Churchman too, and wear a mitre : 
The old debauched ruffian would turn writer. 
I saw him in his study, where he sate, 
Busy in controversies sprung of late. 
A gown and pen became him wondrous well : 
His grave aspect had more of Heaven than Hell 
Only there was a handsome picture by. 
To which he lent a corner of his eye. 



THE CHURCH MILITANT. 237 

As Sin in Greece a prophet was before, 
And in old Rome a mighty emperor, 
So now, being priest, he plainly did profess 
To make a jest of Christ's three offices ; 
The rather since his scatter'd jugglings were 
United now in one both time and sphere. 
From Egypt he took petty deities. 
From Greece oracular infallibilities. 
And from old Rome the liberty of pleasure, 
By free dispensings of the Church's treasure. 
Then, in memorial of his ancient throne, 
He did surname his palace Babylon. 
Yet, that he might the better gain all nations. 
And make that name good by their transmigra- 
tions, 
From all these places, but at divers times, 
He took fine vizards to conceal his crimes : 
From Egypt, anchorism and retiredness, 
Learning from Greece, from old Rome stateliness ; 
And blending these, he carried all men's eyes, 
While Truth sat by, counting his victories ; 
Whereby he grew apace and scorn'd to use 
Such force as once did captivate the Jews ; 
But did bewitch, and finally work each nation 
Into a voluntary transmigration. 
All post to Rome : princes submit their necks 
Either to his public foot or private tricks. 
It did not fit his gravity to stir. 
Nor his long journey, nor his gout and fur : 
Therefore he sent out able ministers, 



238 Herbert's poems. 

Statesmen within, without doors cloisterers ; 
Who, without spear, or sword, or other drum, 
Than what was in their tongue, did overcome ; 
And having conquer'd, did so strangely rule, 
That the whole world did seem but the Pope's 

mule. 
As new and old Rome did one empire twist, 
So both together are one Antichrist ; 
Yet wdth two faces, as their Janus was, 
Being in this their old crack'd looking-glass. 
How dear to me, O God, Thy counsels are ! 

Who may with Thee compare ? 
Thus Sin triumphs in Western Babylon ; 
Yet not as Sin, but as Religion. 
Of his two thrones he made the latter best, 
And to defray his journey from the East. 
Old and new Babylon are to hell and night 
As is the moon and sun to Heaven and light. 
When the one did set, the other did take place, 
Confronting equally the law and grace. 
They are hell's land-marks, Satan's double crest : 
They are Sin's nipples, feeding the East and West. 
But as in vice the copy still exceeds 
The pattern, but not so in virtuous deeds. 
So, though Sin made his latter seat the better, 
The latter Church is to the first a debtor. 
The second Temple could not reach the first ; 
And the late Reformation never durst 
Compare with ancient times and purer years ; 
But in the Jews and us deserveth tears. 



THE CHURCH MILITANT. 239 

Nay, it shall every year decrease and fade, 
Till such a darkness do the world invade 
At Christ's last coming, as His first did find : 
Yet must there such proportions be assign'd 
To these diminishings, as is between 
The spacious world and Jewry to be seen. 
Religion stands on tiptoe in our land, > 

Ready to pass to the American strand. 
When height of malice, and prodigious lusts, 
Impudent ginning, witchcrafts, and distrusts, 
(The marks of future bane,) shall fill our cup 
Unto the brim, and make our measure up ; 
When Seine shall swallow Tiber ; and the Thames, 
By letting in them both, pollutes her streams ; 
When Italy of us shall have her will. 
And all her calendar of sins fulfil ; 
Whereby one may foretell what sins next year 
Shall both in France and England domineer : 
Then shall religion to America flee : 
They have their times of Gospel, e'en as we. 
My God, Thou dost prepare for them a way, 
By carrying first their gold from them away ; 
For gold and grace did never yet agree : 
Religion always sides with poverty. 
We think we rob them, but we think amiss : 
We are more poor, and they more rich by this. 
Thou wilt revenge their quarrel, making grace 
To pay our debts, and leave our ancient place 
To go to them, while that which now their nation 
But lends to us shall be our desolation. 



240 Herbert's poems. 

Yet as the Church shall thither westward fly, 
So Sin shall trace and dog her instantly : 
They have their period also and set times 
Both for their virtuous actions and their crimes. 
And where of old the empire and the arts 
Usher'd the Gospel ever in men's hearts, 
Spain hath done one ; when arts perform the 

other, 
The Church shall come, and Sin the Church shall 

smother : 
That, when they have accomplished the round. 
And met in the East their first and ancient sound. 
Judgment may meet them both, and search them 

round. 
Thus do both lights, as well in Church as Sun, 
Light one another, and together run. 
Thus also Sin and Darkness follow still 
The Church and Sun with all their power and 

skill. 
But as the Sun still goes both west and east. 
So also did the Church, by going west. 
Still eastward go ; because it drew more near 
To time and place, where judgment shall appear. 
How dear to me, O God, Thy counsels are ! 
Who may with Thee compare ? 



THE CHURCH MILITANT. 241 



L'ENVOY. 

King of glory, King of peace, 
With the one make war to cease ; 
With the other bless Tliy sheep, 
Thee to love, in Thee to sleep. 
Let not sin devour Thy fold, 
Bragging that Thy blood is cold ; 
That Thy death is also dead, 
While his conquests daily spread ; 
That thy Hesh hath lost his food. 
And Thy cross is common wood. 
Choke him, let him say no more. 
But reserve his breath in store, 
Till Thy conquest and his fall 
Make his sighs to use it all ; 
And then bargain with the wind 
To discharge what is behind. 

Blessed be God alone, 
Thrice blessed Three in One. 



242 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



A SONNET. 

SENT BY GEORGE HERBERT TO HIS MOTHER AS A NEW- 
YEAR' S GIFT FR03I CAMBRIDGE. 

My God, where is that ancient heat towards Thee 
Wherewith whole shoals of martyrs once did 
burn, 
Besides their other flames ? Doth poetry 

Wear Venus' livery ? only serve her turn ? 
Why are not sonnets made of Thee ? and lays 
Upon Thine altar burnt ? Cannot Thy love 
Heighten a spirit to sound out Thy praise 

As well as any she ? Cannot Thy Dove 
Outstrip their Cupid easily in flight ? 

Or, since Thy ways are deep, and still the same, 
Will not a verse run smooth that bears Thy 
name ? 
Why doth that fire, which by Thy power and 
might 
Each breast does feel, no braver fuel choose 
Than that which, one day, worms may chance 
refuse ? 



MISCELLANEOUS. 243 

Sure, Lord, there is enough m Thee to dry 
Oceans of ink ; for, as the deluge did 

Cover the earth, so doth Thy Majesty : 

Each cloud distils Thy jiraise, and doth forbid 

Poets to turn it to another use. 

Roses and lilies speak Thee ; and to make 

A pair of cheeks of them, is thy abuse. 

Why should I women's eyes for crystal take ? 

Such poor invention bums in their low mind 
Whose fire is wild, and doth not upward go 
To praise, and on Thee, Lord, some ink bestow. 

Open the bones, and you shall nothing find 

In the best faith but filth ; when. Lord, in Thee 

The beauty lies in the discovery. 



INSCRIPTION 

IN THE PARSONAGE, BEMERTON. 
TO MY SUCCESSOR. 

If thou chance for to find 
A new house to thy mind, 

And built without thy cost : 
Be good to the poor. 
As God gives thee store. 

And then my labor 's not lost. 



244 Herbert's poems. 



ON LORD DANVERS. 

Sacred marble, safely keep 

His dust, who under thee must sleep. 

Until the years again restore 

Their dead, and time shall be no more. 

Meanwhile, if he (which all things wears) 

Does ruin thee, or if thy tears 

Are shed for him, dissolve thy frame ; 

Thou art requited : for his fame, 

His virtue, and his worth shall be 

Another monument to thee. 



A PARADOX. 

THAT THE SICK ARE IN A BETTER CASE THAN THE 
WHOLE. 

You who admire yourselves because 
You neither groan nor weep, 

And think it contrary to nature's laws 
To want one ounce of sleep, 
Your strong belief 

Acquits yourselves, and gives the sick all grief. 

Your state to ours is contrary, 

That makes you think us poor. 



MISCELLANEOUS. 245 

So Black-moors think us foul, and we 
Are quit with them, and, more, 
Nothing can see. 
And judge of things but mediocrity. 

The sick are in themselves a state 

Which health hath nought to do. 

How know you that our tears proceed from woe, 
And not from better fate ? 

Since that mirth hath 

Her waters also and desired bath. 

How know you that the sighs we send 
From want of breath proceed. 

Not from excess ? and therefore we do spend 
That which we do not need : 
So trembling may 

As well show inward warbling as decay. 

Cease then to judge calamities 

By outward form and show. 
But view yourselves, and inward turn your eyes, 

Then you shall fully know 
That your estate 
Is, of the two, the far more desperate. 

You always fear to feel those smarts 
Which we but sometimes prove. 

Each little comfort much affects our hearts, 
None but gross joys you move : 



246 Herbert's poems. 

Why then confess 
Your fears in number more, your joys are less. 

Then for yourselves not us embrace 

Plaints to bad fortune due, 
For though you visit us, and plaint our case, 

We doubt much whether you 
Come to our bed 
To comfort us, or to be comforted. 



247 



LATIN AND GREEK POEMS. 



PARENTALIA. 

AUCTORE G. HERBERT. 



MEMORIiE MATRIS SACRUM. 

The following verses were piinted at the end of the Sermon 
which Donne preached at Chelsea in 1627, in memory of 
Herbert's mother, of whose tender watchfulness his life 
makes mention. "And this great care of hers,'' writes 
Barnabas Oley, "this good son of hers studied to improve 
and requite, as is seen in those many Latm and Greek 
verses, the obsequious Parentaha, he made and printed m 
her memory; which though they be good, very good, ye 
(to speak f;eely even of this man whom I so much honour) 
they be dull or dead in comparison of his Temple Poems ; 
and no marvel. To write those, he made his mk with wa^er 
of Helicon; but these inspirations prophetical were distilled 
from above. In those are weak motions of nature ; in these, 
raptures of gi'ace." - B. Oley, 1652. 

Ah Mater, quo te deplorem fonte ? Dolores 
Quae guttJB poterunt enumerare meos ? 

Sicca meis lacrymis Thamesis vicina videtur, 
Virtutumque choro siccior ipse tuo. 



248 Herbert's poems. 

In flumen moerore nigrum si funderer ardens, 
Laudibus hand fierem sepia justa tuis. 

Tantum istjEc scribo gratus, ne tu mihi tantum 
Mater : et ista Dolor nunc tibi Metra parit. 



Cornelia sanct«, graves Sempronias, 
Et quicquid uspiam est severae fceminae, 
Conferte lacrymas : Ilia, quae vos miscuit 
Vestrasque laudes, poscit et mixtas genas. 
Namque banc ruinam salva Gravitas defleat, 
Pudorque constet vel solutis crinibus ; 
Quandoque vultus sola majestas, Dolor. 

Decus mulierum periit : et metuunt viri 
Utrumque sexum dote ne mulctaverit. 
Non ilia soles terere comptu lubricos, 
Struices superbas atque turritum caput 
Molita, reliquum deinde garriens diem, 
(Nam post Babelem linguae adest confusio,) 
Quin post modestam, qualis integras decet, 
Substructionem capitis et nimbum brevem, 
Animam recentem rite curavit sacris, 
Adorta numen acri et ignea prece. 

Dein familiam lustrat, et res prandii, 
Horti, colique distributim pensitat. 
Suum cuique tempus et locus datur. 
Inde exiguntur pensa crudo vespere. 
Ratione certa vita constat et domus, 
Prudenter inito quot-diebus calculo. 



PARENTALIA. 249 

Tota renident asde decus et siiavitas 

Animo renidentes prius. Sin rarior 

Magnatis appulsu extulit se occasio, 

Surrexit una et ilia, seseque extulit : 

Occasione certat imo et obtinet. 

Proh ! quantus imber, quanta labri comitas, 

Lepos severus, Pallas mixta Gratiis ; 

Loquitur numellas, compedes, et retia : 

Aut si negotio hora sumenda .est, rei 

Per angiportus et mceandros labitur, 

Ipsos Catones provocans oraculis. 

Turn quanta tabulis art-ifex ? quie scriptio ? 

Bellum putamen, nucleus bellissimus 

SententiiE cum voce mire convenit. 

Volant per orbem literae notissimoe : 

O blanda dextra, neutiquam istoc pulveris, . 

Quo nunc re^umbis, scriptio merita est tua, 

Pactoli arena tibi tumulus est unicus. 

Adde his trientem Musices, qujB molliens 
Mulcensque dotes caeteras, visa est quasi 
Cselestis harmonise breve prasludium. 
Quam mira tandem Sublevatrix pauperum ? 
Languentium baculus, teges jacentium, 
Commune cordis palpitantis balsafnum : 
Benedictiones publicse cingunt caput, 
Ccelique referunt et praeoccupant modum. 
Fatisco, referens tanta quce numerant mei 
Solum dolores, — et dolores, stellulse ! 

At tu qui inepte haec dicta censes filio, 
Nato parentis auferens Encomium, 



250 Herbert's poems. 

Abito trunce cum tuis pudoribus. 
Ergo ipse solum mutus atque excors ero 
Strepente mundo tiiinulis praeconiis ? 
Mihine Matris urna clausa est unico, 
HerbjE exoletae, ros-marinus aridus ? 
Matrine linguam refero solum ut mordeam ? 
Abito barde ! Quam pie istic sum impudens ? 
Tu vero mater perpetim laudabere 
Nato dolenti : liter^e hoc debent tibi 
Queis me educasti ; sponte chartas illinunt 
Fructum laborum consecutse maximum • 
Laudando Matrem, cum repugnant inscii. 



Cur splendes, O Phoebe ? ecquid demittere matrem 

Ad nos cum radio tam rutilante potes ? 
At superat caput ilia tuum, quantum ipsa cadaver 

Mens superat ; corpus solum Elementa tenent. 
Scilicet id splendes : hgec est tibi causa micandi 

Et lucro apponis gaudia sancta tuo. 
Veriim heus si nequeas coelo demittere Matrem, 

Sitque omnis motus nescia, tanta quies, 
Fac radios saltem ingemines, ut dextera tortos 

Implicet, et Matrem, Matre manente, petam. 



Quid nugor calamo favens ? 
Mater perpetuis uvida gaudiis, 



PARENTALIA. 251 

Horto pro tenui colit 
Edenem Boreas flatibus invium. 

Quin coeli mihi sunt mei, 
Materni decus, et debita nominis, 

Dumque his invigilo frequens 
Stellarum socius, pellibus exuor. 

Quare Sphaeram egomet meam 
Connixus, digitis impiger urgeo : 

Te, Mater, celebrans diu, 
Noctu te celebrans luminis temulo. 

Per te nascor in liunc globum, 
Exemploque tuo nascor in alterum : 

Bis tu Mater eras mibi, 
Ut currat paribus gloria tibiis. 



HoRTi, delicice Domince, marcescite tandem ; 

Ornastis capulum, nee superesse licet. 
Ecce decus vestrum spinis horrescit, acuta 

Cultricem revocans anxietate manum : 
Terrara et fupus olent flores : Dominaeque cadaver 

Contiguas stirpes afflat, cheque rosas. 
In terram violae capite inclinantur opaco, 

Quasque domus Dominae sit, gravitate docent. 
Quare baud vos hortos, sed caemeteria dico, 

Dum torus absentem quisque reponit heram. 
Euge, perite omnes ; nee posthac exeat uUa 

Quaesitum Dominam gemma vel herba suam. 



252 Herbert's poems. 

Cuncta ad radices redeant, tumulosque paternos ; 

(Nempe sepulcra Satis numen inempta dedit) 
Occidite ; aut sane tantisper vivite, donee 

Vespere ros miBStis f unus honestet aquis. 



Galene frustra es, cur miserum premens 
Tot quaestionum fluctibus obruis, 
Arterias tractans micantes 
Corporece fluidaeque molis, 
Aegroto mentis ? quam neque pixides 
Nee tarda possunt pharmaca consequi, 
Utrumque si praederis Indum, 
Ultra animus spatiatur exlex. 
Impos medendi, occidere si potes, 
Nee sic parentem ducar ad optimam : 
Ni sancte, uti Mater, recedam, 
Morte magis viduabor ilia. 
Quin cerne ut erres inscie, brachium 
Tentando sanum : si calet, gestuans, 
Ardore scribendi calescit, 
Mater inest saliente vena. 
Si totus infler, si tumeam crepax, 
Ne membra culpes, causa animo latet 
Qui parturit laudes parentis : 
Nee gravidis medicina tuta est. 
Irregularis nunc habitus mihi est : 
Non exigatur crasis ad alterum. 
Quod tu febrem censes, salubre est 
Atque animo medicatur unum. 



PARENT ALIA. 253 



Pallida materni Genii atque exanguis imago, 
In nebulas similesque tui res gaudia numquid 
Mutata ? et pro matre mihi phantasma dolosum 
Uberaque aerea hiscentem fallentia natum ? 
Ydd nubi pluvia gravidoe, non lacte, measque 
Ridenti lacrymas quibus unis concolor unda est. 
Quin fugias ? mea non fuerat tarn nubila Juno, 
Tarn segnis facies auroroe nescia vernae, 
Tarn languens genitrix cineri supposta fugaci : 
Verum augusta parens, sanctum os cseloque lo- 

candum. 
Quale paludosos jamjam lictura recessus 
Prffitulit Astraea, aut solio Themis alma vetusto 
Pensilis, atque acri dirimens examine lites. 
Hunc vultum ostendas, et tecum nobile spectrum 
Quod superest vita3, insumam ; Solisque jugales 
Ipse tuae solum adnectam, sine murmure, Ihensae. 
Nee querar ingratos, studiis dum tabidus insto, 
Effluxisse dies, suflfocatamve Minervam, 
Aut spes productas, barbataque somnia vertam 
In vicium mundo sterili, cui cedo cometas 
Ipse sues, tanquam digno, pallentiaque astra. 

Est mihi bis quinis laqueata domuncula tignis 
Rure ; brevisque hortus, cujus cum vellere fiorum 
Luctatur spacium, qualem tamen eligit a^qui 
Judicii dominus, flores ut junctius halent 
Stipati, rudibusque volis impervius hortus 
Sit quasi fasciculus crescens, et nidus odorum. 
Hie ego tuque erimus, variae suffitibus herbae 



254 Herbert's poems. 

Quotidie pasti : tantum verum indue vultum 
AfFectusque mei similem ; nee languida misee 
Ora mese memori menti : ne dispare cultu 
Pugnaces, teneros florum turbemus odores, 
Atque inter reliquos horti creseentia foetus 
Nostra etiam paribus mareescant gaudia fatis. 



Parvam piamque dum lubenter semitam 

Grandi re^eque prsefero, 
Carpsit malignum sydus banc modestiam, 

Vinumque felle miscuit. 
Hinc fremere totus et minari gestio 

Ipsis severus orbibus, 
Tandem prehensa comiter lacernula 

Susurrat aure quispiam, 
Haec fuerat olim potio Domini tui. 

Gusto proboque dolium. 



Hoc, Genitrix, scriptum proles tibi sedula mittit. 

Siste parum cantus, dum legis ista, tuos. 
Nosse sui quid agant, qua3dam est quoque musica 
Sanctis, 

Quoeque olim fuerat cura, manere potest. 
Nos misere flemus, solesque obducimus almos 

Occiduis, tanquam duplice nube, genis. 
Interea classem magnis Rex instruit ausis : 

Nos autem flemus : res ea sola tuis. 



PARENTALIA. 255 

Ecce solutura est, ventos causaUi mor^ntes : 

Sin pluviam : fletus suppeditasset aquas. 
Tillius incumbit Dano : Gallusque marinis : 

Nos flendo : haec nostrum tessera sola ducum. 
Sic aevum exigitur tardum, dum praspetis anni 

Mille rotae nimiis impediuntur aquis. 
Plura tibi missurus eram (nam quaa mihi laurus, 

Quod nectar, nisi cum te celebrare diem ?) 
Sed partem in scriptis etiam dum lacryma poscit, 

Diluit oppositas candidus humor aquas. 



Nempe hujusque notos tenebricosos, 

Et maestum nimio madore Coelum, 

Tellurisque Britannicae salivam 

Injuste satis arguit viator. 

At te commoriente, Magna Mater, 

Recte, quem trahit, aerem re^Dellit 

Cum probro madidum, reumque difflat. 

Nam te nunc Ager, Urbs, et Aula plorant : 

Te nunc Anglia, Scotiaeque binae 

Quin te Cambria pervetusta deflet, 

Deducens lacrymas prioris sevi 

Ne serae meritis tuis venirent. 

Non est angulus uspiam serenus, 

Nee cingit mare, nunc inundat omnes. 



256 Herbert's poems. 



DuM librata suis haeret radicibus ilex 

Nescia Vulturnis cedere, firma manet. 
Post ubi crudelem sentit divisa securem. 

Quo placet oblato, mortua fertur, hero : 
Arbor et ipse inversa vocor : dumque insitus almae 

Assideo Matri, robore vinco cedros. 
Nunc sorti pateo, expositus sine matre procellis, 

Lubricus, et superans mobilitate salum. 
Tu radix, tu petra mihi firmissima, Mater 

Ceu Polypus, chelis saxa prehendo tenax : 
Non tibi nunc soli filum abrupere sorores 

Dissutus videor funere et ipse tuo. 
Unde vagans passim recte vocer alter Ulysses, 

Alteraque haec tua mors, Ilias esto mihi. 



Faces SE Stoica plebs, obambulans cautes. 
Exuta strato carnis, ossibus constans, 
lisque siccis, adeo ut os Molossorum 
Hand glubat inde tres teruncios escae. 
Dolere prohibes ? aut dolore me gentis 
Adeo inficetoe, plumbeae, Meduseae, 
Ad saxa speciem retrahentis Immanam, 
Tantoque nequioris optima Pyrrha. 
At forte matrem perdere hand soles demens 
Quin nee potes ; cui prsebuit Tigris partum. 
Proinde parco belluis, nee irascor. 



PARENTALIA. 257 



EPITAPHIUM. 



Hic sita foeminei laus et victoria sexus : 
Virgo pudens, uxor fida, severa parens : 

Magnatumque inopumque aequum certamen et 
ardor : 
Nobilitate illos, hos pietate rapit. 

Sic excelsa humilisque simul loca dissita junxit, 
Quicquid liabet tellus, quicquid et astra, fruens. 



'^^XVC aaBeveg epKog, ufiavpov TWEVfiarog dyyog 

TC)de Tzapu rvufio) difeo, (piTis, fiovov. 
Nov 6' avTOv rcKJiog ear' aoTrjp- (pijjog yap kneivov 

^£yyo)67] fiovov, ug elKog^ ewavTuv ex^i. 
Nvv opdag otl KuXkog uTTclpcTOv urrbg airavyovg 

Ov aadpov, ovSe fteXtbv eTT/lero, u?iAu voog. 
"Of 6La acjfiaTiov irporepov kol vvv 6c' '02.vfj.TTOV 

'AcrpaiTTuv, dvpiduv ug 6ia^ velfj-e aiXag. 



MTJTep, yvvaiKuv uyTo], avOpurrov epig, 
'Odvpfia Aaifiovuv, Qeov ytupyiov, 
Ilcjf vvv iKpLTiTaaaL^ yoov kol klvgvvov 
'Hudg TuTTOvaa KVK?i6d£v fjccrcuxfJiovg. 
Mevovvye co<pir)v, el 6' ut77/?.?mxOcu .tp^wv, 
'Zu^g ^vvepyov a7]v6e diadelvat reKVOig 
'FjXPV^ <l>vyovaa^ ttjv r' eTtiarf/iiTjv j3lov. 
Mevoi'v TO y7ia<^vpbv^ ual fj.£7u()poov rpoTZUv, 

Q 



258 Herbert's poems. 

Aoycjv re (pi2,Tpov, wot' vTre^eXdelv Xecov. 
Nvv 6' o)xov kvOevd^ ug orparbg vLKri(^6pog 
^epov TO Tvdv, Kuyuv i] ug ^k.'KapKria^ 
KrjTTOv avvuduv dvGcvrjv evudiav, 
Midv r' uTopnov cvunopeveadaL dpciaag. 
'Eyw 6e ptvl ^vjiSaXcjv ixvrjTiaTcJ 
'EIttov 7vxoifJ.i rf/f(5' uptoTTjg iiTpaTrov, 
Qavelv aweiddg KpeiTTOv, rj uXkug ^tovv. 



XaTiSTTov doKel daKpvaai. 
XaXercdv /xkv ov daKpvaai: 
XaleTTurepov de ■navrcdv 
AaKpi'OVTag dfiTzavsadai. 
TeveTEtpav ov ng uvSpcov 
Atdvfiaig Kopacg roiavTtjv 
^EnoSvpeTai TzpeTtovrag. 
TaTMg ; elde 7' "kpyog elijv 
UoTiVOfifiaTog, rcoTdnT^ag^ 
Iva fJ-TiTpbg ei'devovarig 
^Aperdg ScaKptdeiaag 
'Idlaig KopatOL KlavoG). 



Ald^o) yevireipav^ EiraLd^ovat Kal dTiXoi, 
OvK £0' e/j.fjv Idcag (pvXrjg ypdipavreg dpuydv, 
Jlpovvoiiioj 6' upsTTjg kolvtjv yeveretpav ekovTeg. 
OvK evt davjia roaov a(l)eTepl^etv' ovde yap vScop, 
Ov (peyyog, kolvov r' ayadbv, fiiav eig Ovpav e'ipyeiv 
'H dsfttg, 77 dwarov. (je/nvtofiarog £tt2,£to orddfiT}, 
Ar]fi6aiov r' IvSalfia Kalov, delov re KaroTTTpov. 

Aid^u yevETELpav, ETzacd^ovat yvvalKsg, 
OvK ETi jSaXTiOfievr/g ;\;apicrii' (SejSo'krjuivai Tjtop^ 



PARENTALIA. 259 

Avrap ux£i fiEyuPup KevTovfievai : evre yap avrai 
T//f rrepl avTCkaMovatv^ kov noiKcX^aTog upSrjv 
Ar^Gfiovsg, 7j (^EAovTi GcpalepC) KTjp rpavfian vvrrei 
"Epyov d[j.apTrjKvla, viov neTzTiov cufxaTL ariKrdv 
Miivipc TtKTatvovaa, yocp kol Ttevdeai avyxpovv. 

Ala^o) yeveTsipav, eitata^ovatv oirupai, 
OvK, ert deaiToivrig ylvKepd fiEMduvt Tpa(p£laar 
^Hg (ilog ritXioio 6iK7]v^ uKTivag levrog 
Upadg EiapLVovg re x^'-P'^'^Q kTcuiidvaTi kjjwov ' 
AvTup 6(5' av Ouvarog Kvplrjg ug rfKiog avog 
liEtpiov ijTTrjdelg ^ovXrip-aat, rravTa fxapaivei. 
Zu 6' avrbg fSpaxv n Trveluv, ug ep-iraKLV avTfjg 
Alvov 6p,ov ^cjEtv KOL TTVEVftaTog uAXo yEviadat 
livEvfia^ (Siov TTupoSov fioi'voig etteegoc fiErprjaav. 



Kvfjtar'' ETTacppiocJvra Qafir^asog, olke GETiTjvrjg 
^uTog uTTavpop.EV7]g, oyKov EcpELGOs ttMov. 

Nvv dsfiig opc^val?] ftsyah/g km yEtrovog atGy, 
Ovhjinrovds i3i0uv vfifiiv uviGTa/XEVotg. 

'AAAd fj,EV£CT\ ov yap rapaxog ttotI fiTjTEpa jSaivyj 
Kal Tzpinov (Jds izapa daKpvosGGL (}eeiv. 



Excussos manibus calamos, falcemque resumptam 

Rure, sibi dixit Musa fuisse probro. 
Aggreditur Matrem (conductis carmine Parcis) 

Funereque hoc cultum vindicat aegra suum. 
Non potui non ire acri stimulaiite flagello : 

Quill matris superans carmina poscit honos. 
Eja, agedum scribo : vicisti Musa ; sed audi, 

Stulta semel scribo, perpetuo ut sileam. 



260 



GEORGII HERBERTI ANGLI 



MUS^ RESPONSORI^. 



AD ANDREW MELVINI SCOTI 



Anii-tami-cami-categoriam. 



[Andrew Melvin, or Melvill, a noisy and remarkable person 
in his own day, was born in 1545 ; and, after spending some 
time in Switzerland, returned to England with a commendatory 
letter from Beza. The question of episcopal titles in 1578 
fanned a flame, which later circumstances made dangerous to 
himself. Walton says, — "He, being a man of learning, and 
inclined to satirical poetry, had scattered many malicious, 
bitter verses against our liturgy, our ceremonies, and our 
church-government; which were by some of that party (the 
dissenters) so magnified for the wit, that they were therefore 
brought into Westminster School, when Mr. George Herbert 
then, and often after, made such answers to them, and such 
reflections on him and his kirk, as might unbeguile any man 
that was not too deeply pre-engnged in such a quarrel." At 
an earlier period, Walton had spoken more gently of the polemi- 
cal Scotchman, as- a master of wit, and among his countrymen 
only exceeded by Buchanan. A more competent critic, 
Robertson, praises his learning, his pure manners, and his intre- 
pidity of mind. He died in 1621. Herbert's verses were col- 
lected and published by Dr. Duport, the Dean of Peterborough. 



MUS^ RESPONSORI^. 261 

On neither side is the wit or the anger of a very sharp edge ; 
and the epigi-ams of Herbert are the mere sword-play of an 
accomplished scholar, more anxious to show his skill, than to 
wound his opponent.] 



PRO SUPPLICI 

EvangeUcorum Minisirorum in Anglia, ad Serenissimum Regem 
contra larvaiam gemince Academue Gorgonem Apologia; 

SIVE, ANTI-TAMI-CAMI-CATEGORIA. 
AUCTOEE ANDREA MELVINO. 



RESPONSUM, NON DICTUM. 

Insolens, audax, facinus nefandum, 
Scilicet, (poscit ratio ut decori, 
Poscit ex omni officio ut sibi mens 
Conscia recti) 

Anxiam Christi vigilemque curam, 
Quae pias terris animas relictis 
Sublevans deducit in astra, nigroque 
Invidet Oreo, 

De sacri casta ratione cultus, 
De Sacro-sancti Officii decoro 
Supplicem ritu veteri libellum 
Porr'gere Regi, 



262 Herbert's poems- 

Simplici mente atque animo integello, 
Spiritu recto, et studiis modestis, 
Numinis sancti veniam, et benigni 
Regis honorem 

Rite praefantem : Scelus expiandum 
Scilicet taurorum, ovium, suumque 
Millibus centum, voluisse nudo 
Tangere verbo 

Prassulum fastus ; monuisse Ritus 
Impios, deridiculos, ineptos 
Lege, ceu labes, maculasque lecta ex 
Gente fugandos. 

Jusque-jurandum ingemuisse jura 
Exigi contra omnia ; tum misellis 
Mentibus tristem laqueum injici per 
Fasque, nefasque. 

Turbida illimi Crucis in lavacro 
Signa consignem ? magico rotatu 
Verba devolvam ? sacra vox sacrata im- 
Murmuret unda 

Strigis in morem ? Rationis usu ad- 
Fabor Infantem vacuum ? canoras 
Ingeram nugas minus audienti 
Dicta puello ? 



MUS.E RESPONSORI^. 263 

Parvulo impostls manibus sacrabo 
Gratiae foedus ? digitone Sponsae 
Annulus Sponsi impositus sacrabit 
Connubiale 

Foedus asteriiEe bonitatis ? Unda 
Num salutari mulier Sacerdos 
Tinget in vitam, Sephoramque reddet 
Lustrica mater ? 

Pilei quadrum capiti rotundo 
Rite quadrabit ? Pharium camillo 
Supparum Christi, et decus Antichrist! 
Pontificale ? 

Pastor examen gregis exigendum 
Curet invitus, celebrare coenam 
Promptus arcanam, memorando Jesu 
Yulnera dira ? 

Cantibus certent Berecynthia sera 
Musicum fractis ? reboentve raiico 
Templa miigitu ? lUecebris supremi ah 
Rector Olympi 

Captus humanis ? libitumque nobis, 
Scilicet, Regi id Superum allubescet ? 
Somniiimque segri cerebri profanum est 
Dictio sacra ? 



264 Herbert's poems. 

Haud secus lustri Lupa Vaticani 
Komuli faecem bibit, et bibendam 
Porrigit poc'lo, populisque et ipsis 
Regibus aureo. 

Non ita aeterni Witakerus acer 
Luminis vindex, patriaeque lumen 
Dixit, aut sensit ; neque celsa summi 
Penna Renoldi, 

Certa sublimes aperire calles, 
Sueta coelestes iterare cursus, 
Laeta misceri niveis beatse 

Civibus aulas ; 

Nee Tami, aut Cami accola saniore 
Mente, qui coelum sapit in frequenti 
Hermathenseo, et celebri Lyceo 
Culta juventus, 

Cujus affulget genio Jovae lux, 
Cui nitens Sol justitise renidet, 
Quem jubar Christi radian tis alto 
Spectat Olympo. 

Bucerum laudem ? memoremque magnum 
Martyrem ? gemmas geminas renati 
Aurei ssec'li, duo dura sacri 
Fulmina belli ? 



MUS/E RESPONSORI^. 2G5 

A^lterum Camus liqiiido recursu, 
Alterum Tamus trepidaiite Ijmpha 
Audiit, multum stupuitque magno 
Ora sonantem. 

Anne mulcentem Rhodanum, et Lemanum 
Praedicem Bezam viridi in senecta ? 
Octies cujus trepidavit aetas 

Claudere denos 

Solis anfractus, reditusque, et ultra 
Quinque percurrens spatiosa in annos 
Longius florem viridantis aevi 
Prorogat et ver. 

Oris erumpit scatebra perenni 
Amnis eximdans, gravidique rores 
Gratia foecunda animos apertis 
Auribus implent. 

Major hie omni invidia, et superstes 
Millibus mille, et Sadecle, et omnium 
Maximo Calvino, aliisque veri 
Testibus aequis ; 

Voce olorina liquidas ad undas 
Nunc canit laudes Genitoris almi 
Carmen, et Nato canit, eliquante 
Numinis aura. 



266 Herbert's poems. 

Sensa de castu sacra puriore, 
Dicta de cultu potiore San eta, 
Ai'ma quae in castris jugulent severi 
Tramitis hostes. 

Cano can tan ti juga ninguidarum 
Alpium applaudunt, resonantque valles ; 
Jura concentu nemorum sonoro, 
Et pater Ister 

Consonant longe ; pater et bicornis 
Rhenus assensum ingeminat, Garumna, 
Sequana, atque Arar, Liger : insularum et 
Undipotentum 

Magna pars intenta Britannicarum 
Voce conspirat liquida : solumque, 
Et salum, et coelum, semula prascinentis 
More, modoque 

Concinunt Bezge numeris, modisque 
Et polo plaudunt ; referiintque leges 
Lege qiias sanxit pius ardor, et Rex 
Scoto-britannus. 

Sicut edictum in tabulis ahenis 

Servat seternum pia cura Regis 

Qui mare, et terras, variisque mundum 



Temperat horis : j; 



MUS^ RESPONSORI.^. 267 

Cujus oequalis Soboles Parent! 
Gentis electa? pater, atque custos ; 
Par et ambobus, veniens utrinque 
Spiritus almus ; 

Quippe Tres-unus Deus ; unus actus 
Una natura est tribus ; una virtus, 
Una majestas, Deltas et una, 
Gloria et una. 

Una vis immensa, perennis una 
Vita, lux una, et sapientia una, 
Una mens, una et ratio, una vox, et 
Una voluntas 

Lenis, indulgens, facilis, benigna ; 
Dura, et inclemens, rigida, et severa ; 
Semper aeterna, omnipotens, et sequa, 
Semper et alma : 

Lucidum cujus speculum est, reflectens 
Aureum vultus jubar, et verendum, 
Virginis proles, sata coelo, et alti In- 
Terpres Olympi : 

Qui Patris mentemque, animumque sancti 
Filius pandit face noctiluca, 
Sive Doctrinse documenta, seu com- 
pendia Yitee, 



268 Herbert's poems. 

Publicae, priv^e, sacra scita Regni 
Regis ad natum referens, Domusque 
Ad voluntatem Domini instituta 
Singula librans, 

Luce quam Phoebus melior refundit, 
Lege, quam Legum- tulit ipse -lator, 
Cujus exacti officii suprema est 
Norma voluntas. 

Coeca mens humana, hominum voluntas 
Prava, et afFectus rabidi : indigetque 
Luce mens, norma officii voluntas, 
Lege libido, 

Quisquis banc surda negat aure, qu^ se 
Fundit ubertim liquidas sub auras, 
Hie ter prudens, sapiensque, et omni ex 
Parte beatus. 

Ergo vos Cami proceres, Tamique, 
Quos via flexit malesuadus error, 
Denuo rectum, duce Rege Regum, in- 
Sistite callem. 

Vos metus tangit si hominum nee ullus, 
At Deum fandi memorem et nefandi 
Vindicem sperate, et amoena solis 
Tartara Diris ; 



MUS^ RESPONSORI^. 269 

Quae manent sontes animas, trucesque 
Praesulum fastus, male quas perurit 
Pervigil zelus vigilum, et gregis cu- 
Stodia pernox ; 

Veste bis tincta Tyrio superbos 
Murice, et pastes dape pinguiore 
Regia quondam aut Saliari inuncta a- 
Bdomine coena. 

Qualis Ursini, Damasique fastus 
Turgidus, luxuque ferox, feroque 
Ambitu pugnax, sacram et sedem, et urbem 
Caede nefanda 

Civium incestavit, et ominosum 
Traxit exemplum veniens in sevum 
Praesulum quod nobilium indecorus 
Provocat ordo. 

Quid fames auri sacra ? quid cupido 
Ambitu diro fera non propagat 
Posteris culpae ? mala damna quanta 
Plurima fundit ? 



270 



PRO DISCIPLINA ECCLESI^ NOSTRA, 
EPIGRAMMATA APOLOGETICA. 



AUGUSTISSIMO POTENTISSIMOQUE MONARCH.E JA- 
COBO, D. G., MAGNiE BRITANNIiE, FRANCIS, ET 
HIBERNIiE, REGI, FIDEI DEFENSOR!, ETC. GEO. 
HERBERTUS. 

EccE recedentis foecundo in littore Nili 
Sol generat populum luce fovente novum. 

Ante tui, Ca3sar, quam fulserat aura tavoris, 
Nostras etiam Musse vile fuere lutum : 

Nunc adeo per te vivunt, ut repere possint, 
Sintque ausas thalamum soils adire tui. 



ILLUSTRIS: CELSISSIMOQUE CAROLO, WALLI^, ET 
JUVENTUTIS PRINCIPI. 

QuAM chartam tibi porrigo recentem, 
Humange decus atque apex juventae, 
Obtutu placido benignus afHes, 
Nam [que] aspectibus e tuis vel unus 
Mordaces tineas, nigrasque blattas, 
Quas livor mihi parturit, retundet, 
Ceu, quas culta timet seges, pruinas 



EPIGRAMMATA APOLOGETICA. 271 

Nascentes radii fugant, vel acres 
Tantum dulcia leniunt catarrhos. 
Sic 6 te (juvenem, senemve) credat 
Mors semper juvenem, senem Britanni. 



KEVERENDISSIMO IN CHRISTO PATRI AC DOMINO 
EPISCOPO VINTONIENSI, ETC.* 

Sancte Pater, coeli custos, quo doctius uno 
Terra nihil, nee quo sanctius astra vident ; 

Ciim mea futilibus numeris se verba viderent 
Claudi, pene tuas praeteriere fores. 

Sed propere, dextreque reduxit euntia sensus, 
Ista docens soli scripta quadrare tibi. 



AD REGEM. 

INSTITUTI EPIGKAMMATICI RATIO. 

Epigr. 1. 

Cum millena tuam pulsare negotia mentem 
Constet, et ex ilia pendeat orbis ope ; 

Ne te productis videar lassare Camoenis, 
Pro solido, C^sar, carmine frusta dabo. 

Cum tu contundens Catharos, vultuque librisque, 
Grata milii mensae sunt analecta tuae. 

♦ Laimcelot Andrewes, Bishop of Winchester. 



272 Herbert's poems. 

AD MELVINUM. 
Epigr. 2. 

NoN mea fert setas, ut te, veterane, lacessam ; 

Non ut te superem : res tamen ipsa feret. 
-^tatis numerum supplebit causa minorem ; 

Sic tu nunc juvenis factus egoque senex. 
Aspice, dum perstas, ut te tua deserat setas ; 

Et mea sint canis scripta referta tuis. 
Ecce tamen quam suavis ero ! cum, fine duelli, 

Clauserit extremas pugna peracta vices, 
Turn tibi, si placeat, fugientia tempora reddam ; 

Sufficiet votis ista juventa meis. 



IN MONSTRUM VOCABULI ANTI-TAMI-CAMI- 
CATEGORIA. 

Epigi-. 3. Ad eundem. 

QUAM bellus homo es ! lepido quam nomine fingis 

Istas Anti-Tami-Cami-Categorias ! 
Sic Catharis nova sola placent ; res, verba novautur : 

Quae sapiunt sevum, ceu cariosa jacent. 
Quin liceat nobis aliquas procudere voces : 

Non tibi fingendi sola taberna patet. 
Ciim sacra perturbet vester furor omnia, scriptum 

Hoc erit, Anti-furi-Puri-Categoria. 
Pollubra vel cum olim damnaris Regia in ara, 

Est Anti-pelvi-Melvi-Categoria. 



EPIGRAMMATA AFOLOGETICA. 273 



PARTITIO ANTI-TAMI-CAMI-CATEGORI^. 

Tres video partes, quo re distinctius utar, 

Anticategoriai, Scoto-Britanne, tuae : 
Ritibus una Sacris opponitur ; altera Sanctos 

Pr^edicat auctores ; tertia plena Deo est. 
Postremis ambabus idem sentiimis uterque ; 

Ipse pios laudo ; Numen et ipse colo. 
Non nisi prima suas patiuntur proelia lites. 

O bene quod dubium possideamus agrum ! 



IN METEI GENUS. 

Cur, ubi tot ludat numeris antiqua poesis, 

Sola tibi Sappho, feminaque una placet ? 
Cur tibi tarn facile non arrisere poetai 

Heroum grandi carmina fulta pede ? 
Cur non lugentes Elegi ? non acer Iambus ? 

Commotos animos recti us istar decent. 
Scilicet hoc vobis proprium, qui purius itis, 

Et populi spurcas creditis esse vias ; 
Vos ducibus missis, missis doctoribus, omncs 

Femineum blanda fallitis ai'te genus : 
Nunc etiam teneras quo vci-sus gratior aures 

Mulceat, imbelles comj)lacuere modi. 



274 Herbert's poems. 



DE LAKVATA GORGONE. 

GoRGONA cur diram, larvasque obtrudis inanes, 
Cum prope sit nobis Musa, Medusa procul ? 

Si, quia felices olim dixere poetae 

Pallada gorgoneam, sic tua verba placent. 

Vel potius liceat distinguere. Tuque tuique 
Sumite Gorgoneam, nostraque Pallas erit. 



DE PR^SULUM FASTU. 

Pr^sulibus nostris fastus, Melvine, tumentes 

Saepius aspergis. Siste, pudore vacas. 
An quod semotum populo laquearibus altis 

Eminet, id tumidum protinus esse feres ? 
Ergo etiam Solem dicas, ignave, superbum, 

Qui tam sublimi conspicit orbe viam : 
lUe tamen, quamvis altus, tua crimina ridens 

Assiduo vilem lumine cingit humum. 
Sic laudandus erit nactus sublimia Prsesul, 

Qui dulci miseros irradiabit ope. 



DE GEMINA ACADEMIA. 

Quis hie superbit, oro ? tune, an Prsesules ? 

Quos dente nigro corripis ? 
Tu duplicem solus Camoenaruin thronum 

Virtute percellis tua ; 



EPIGRAMMATA ArOLOGP:TICA. 275 

Et unus impar asstimatur viribus, 

Uti'Limque sternis calcitro : 
Omnesque stulti audimus, aut hypocritae, 

Te perspicaci atque integro. 
An rectius nos, si vices vertas, probi, 

Te contumaci, et livido ? 
Quisquis tuetur perspicillis Belgicis 

Qua parte tractari solent, 
Res ampliantur, sin per adversam videt, 

Minora fiunt omnia : 
Tu qui superbos cseteros existimas 

(Superbius cum te nihil) 
Vertas specillum : nam, prout se res habent, 

Vitro minus recte uteris. 



DE S. BAPTISMI RITU. 

Cum tener ad sacros infans sistatur aquales, 

Quod puer ignorat, verba profana putas ? 
Annon sic mercamur agros ? quibus ecce Redemp- 

Comparat asterni regna beata Dei. [tor 

Scilicet emptorem si res aut parcior a?tas 

Impediant, apices legis amicus obit. 
Forsitan et prohibes infans portetur ad undas, 

Et per se Templi limen adire velis : 
Sin, Melvine, pedes alienos postulet infans, 

Cur sic displiceat vox aliena tibi ? 
Rectius innocuis lactentibus omnia pr^estes, 

Qua) ratio per se, si sit adulta, facit. 



276 Herbert's poems. 

Quid vetat ut pueri vagitus suppleat alter, 
Cum nequeat claras ipse litare preces ? 

Saevus es eripiens parvis vadimonia cceli : 
Et tibi sit nemo prues, ubi poscis opem. 



DE SIGNACULO CRUCIS. 

Cur tanta sufflas probra in innocuam Crucem ? 

Non plus maligni daemones Christi cruce 

Unquam fugari, quam tui socii solent. 

Apostolorum culj^a non levis fuit 

Vitasse Christi spiritum efflantis crucem. 

Et Christianus quisque piscis dicitur 

TertuUiano, propter undoe pollubrum, 

Quo tingimur parvi. Ecquis autem brachiis 

Natare sine clarissima potest cruce ? 

Sed non moramnr : namque vestra crux erit, 

Vobis faventibusve, vel negantibus. 



DE JURAMENTO ECCLESLE. 

Articulis sacris quidam subscribere jussus, 
Ah ! Cheiragra vetat, quo minus, inquit, agam. 

vere dictum, et belle ! cum torqueat omnes 
Ordinis osores articulare malum. 



EPIGRAMMATA APOLOGETICA. 277 



DE PURIFICATIONE POST PUERPERIUM. 

Enixas pueros matres se sistere templis 

Displicit, et laudis tura litare Deo. 
Forte quidem, cum per vestras Ecclesia turbas 

Fluctibus internis exagitata natet, 
Vos sine maternis hymnis infantia vidit, 

Vitaque neglectas est satis ulta preces. 
Sed nos, cum nequeat parvorum lingua parentem 

Non laudare Deum, credimus esse nefas. 
Quotidiana suas poscant si fercula grates, 

Nostra caro sanctse nescia laudis erit ? 
Adde piis animis quasvis occasio lucro est, 

Qute possint humili fundere corde preces. 
Sic ubi jam mulier decerpti conscia pomi 

Ingemat ob partus, ceu maledicta, suos. 
Apposite quem commotum subfugerat olim. 

Nunc redit ad mitem, ceu benedicta, Deum. 



DE ANTICHRISTI DECORE PONTIFICALI. 

NoN quia Pontificum sunt olim afflata veneno, 
Omnia sunt temere projicienda foras. 

Tollantur si cuncta malus quee poUuit usus, 
Non remanent nobis corpora, non animae. 



278 Herbert's poems. 



DE SUPERPELLICEO. 

Quid saci^ce tandem meruere vestes ? 
Quas malus livor jaculis lacessit 
Polluens castam chlamydis colorem 

Dentibus atris ? 
Quicquid ex nrna meliore ductum 
Luce praelustri, vel honore poUet, 
Mens sub insigni specie coloris 

Concipit albi. 
Scilicet talem liquet esse solem ; 
Angeli vultu radiante candent ; 
Incolse coeli melioris alba 

Veste triumphant. 
E creaturis sine mentis usu 
Conditis binas liomini sequendas 
Spiritus proponit, et est utrique 

Candor amicus. 
Ergo ringantur pietatis liostes, 
Filii noctis, populus malignus, 
Dum suum nomen tenet, et triumphat 

Albion albo. 



DE PILEO QUADRATO. 

Qu^ dicteria fuderat Britannus 
Superpellicei tremendus hostis, 
Isthgec pileus audiit propinquus, 
Et partem capitis petit supremam ; 



EPIGRAMMATA APOLOGETICA. 279 

Non sic effugit angulus vel unus 
Quo dictis minus acribus notetur. 

Verum heus ! si reputes, tibi tuisque 
Longe pileus anteit galerum, 
Ut fervor cerebri refrigeretur, 
Qui vestras edit intime medullas. 
Sed qui tam male pileos habetis, 
Quos Ecclesia comprobat, verendum 
Ne tandem caput ejus impetatis. 



IN CATHARUM. 

Cur Latiam linguam reris nimis esse profanam ? 

Quam praemissa probant secula, nostra probant ? 
Cur teretem Graecam damnas, atque Hellada totam, 

Qua tamen occisi foedera scripta Dei ? 
Scilicet Hebrasam cantas, et perstrepis unam : 

Haec facit ad nasum sola loquela tuum. 



DE EPISCOPIS. 

Quos cbaros habuit Christus Apostolos, 
Testatosque suo tradiderat gregi ; 
Ut cum mors rabidis unguibus imminens 
DoctrinaB fluvios clauderet aureae, 
Mites acciperent Lampada Prajsules, 
Servarentque sacrum clavibus ordinem ; 



280 Herbert's poems. 

Hos nunc barbaries impia vellicat 
Indulgens propriis ambitionibus, 
Et quos ipsa nequit scandere vertices 
Hos ad se trahere, et mergere gestiens. 
coecum populum ! si bona res siet 
Pragsul, cur renuis ? sin mala, pauculos 
Quam cunctos fieri prsestat Episcopos. 



DE IISDEM AD MELVINUM. 

Pr^sulibus dirum te Musa coarguit hostem, 
An quia Textores, Ai'tificesque probas ? 



DE TEXTORE CATHARO. 

Cum piscatores Textor legit esse vocatos, 
Ut sanctum Domini persequerentur opus ; 

Ble quoque invadit Divinam Flaminis artem, 
Subtegmen reti dignius esse putans, 

Et nunc perlongas Scripturge stamine telas 
Torquet, et in Textu Doctor utroque cluet. 



DE MAGICIS ROTATIBUS. 

Quos tu rotatus, quale murmur auscultas 
In ritibus nostris ? Ego audio nullum. 
Age, provocemus usque ad Angelos ipsos, 
Auresque superas : arbitri ipsi sint litis, 



EPIGRAMMATA APOLOG PITIOA. 281 

Utrum tenore sacra nostra sint necne 
jEquabili facta. Ecquid ergo te tanta 
Calumniandi concitavit urtica, 
Ut, quas Papicolis propria, assiias nobis, 
Falsumque potius, quam crepes [vero?] versu? 
Tu perstrepis tamen ; utque turgeat carmen 
Tuum tibi, poeta belle non mystes 
Magicos rotatiis, et perhorridas Striges, 
Dicteriis mordacibus notans, clamas 
Non convenire precibus ista Divinis. 
O ssevus liostis ! quam ferociter pugnas ! 
Nihilne r6spondebimus tibi ? Fatemur. 



AD FRATRES. 



sec'lum lepidum ! circumstant undique Fratres, 
Papicolisque sui sunt, Catharisque sui. 

Sic nunc plena boni sunt omnia Fratris, amore 
Cum nil fraterno rarius esse queat. 



DE LABE, MACULISQUE. 

Labeculas, maculasque nobis objicis, 
Quid ? hoccine est mirum ? Viatores sumus. 
Quo sanguis est Christi, nisi ut maculas lavet, 
Quas spargit animse corporis propius lutum ? 
Vos ergo puri ! O nomen appositissimum 
Quo vulgus ornat vos ? At audias parum ; 



282 Herbert's poems. 

Astronomus olim (ut fama) dum maculas diu, 
Quas Luna habet, tuetur, in foveam cadit, 
Totusque caenuni Cyntliice ignoscit notis. 
Ecclesia est mihi Luna ; perge in Fabula. 



DE MUSICA SACRA. 

Cur efficaci, Deucalion, manu, 
Post restitutos fluctibus obices, 
Mutas in humanam figuram 
Saxa supervacuasque cautes ? 
Quin redde formas, O bone, pristinas, 
Et nos reducas ad lapides avos : 
Nam saxa mirantur canentes, 
Saxa lyras, citharasque callent. 
Rupes tenaces, et silices ferunt 
Potentiori carmine percitas 

Saltus per incultos, lacusque 
Orphea mellifluum secutas. 
Et saxa diris hispida montibus 
Amphionis testitudine nobili 

Percussa dum currunt ad urbem, 
Msenia contribuere Thebis. 
Tantum repertum est trux hominum genus, 
Qui templa sacris expoliant clioris, 
Non erubescentes vel ipsas 
Duritia superare cautes. 
plena centum Musica Gratiis, 
Prteclariorum spirituum cibus, 



EriGRAMMATA APOLOGETICA. 283 

Quo me vocas tandem, tuumque 
Ut celebrem decus insusurras ? 
Tu Diva miro pollice spiritum 
Cseno profani corporis exuens 
Ter miilies ca^lo reponis : 

Astra rogant, ISTovus hie quis bospes ? 
Ardore Moses concitus entheo, 
Mersis revertens laetus ab bostibus 
Exuscitat plebem sacratos 

Ad Dominum properare cantus. 
Quid bocce ? Psalmos audion' ? O dapes ! 
succulenti balsama spiritus ! 
Ramenta caeli, guttulaeque 
DeciduiB meboris orbis 
Quos David, ipsie deliciaj Dei, 
Ingens piorum gloria Principum, 
Sionis excelsas ad arces 

Cum citbaris, lituisque miscet. 
Miratur aequor finitimum sonos, 
Et ipse Jordan sistit aquas stupens ; 
Prse quo Tibris vultum recondit, 
Eridanusque pudore fusus. 
Tun' obdis aures, grex nove, barbaras, 
Et nuUus audis ? Cantibus obstrepens, 
Ut, quo fatiges verberesque 
Pulpita, plus spatii lucreris ? 
At cui videri prodigium potest 
Mentes, quietis tympana publicse, 
Discordj's plenas sonoris 

Harnf >niam tolerare nuUam ! 



284 hkrbkkt's pokms. 



DE EADEM. 



Cantus sacros, profane, mugitus vocas ? 
Mugire multo mavelim quam rudere. 



DE RITUUM USU. 

Cum primum ratibus suis 
Nostram Caesar ad insulam 
Olim appelleret, intuens 
Omnes indigenas loci 
Viventes sine vestibus, 
O victoria, clamitat, 
Certa., ac perfacilis mihi ! 

Non alio Cathari modo 
Dum sponsam Domini piis 
Orbam ritibus expetunt, 
Atque ad barbariera patrum 
Vellent omnia regredi, 
Illam tegminis insciam 
Prorsus Doemoni, et hostibus 
Exponunt superabilem. 

Atqui vos secus, O boni, 
S entire ac sapere addecet. 
Si vestros animos regant 
Scripturae canones sacrae : 



EPIGRAMMATA APOLOGETICA. 285 

Namque haec, jure, cuipiam 
Vestem non adimi suam, 
Sed nudis et egentibus 
Non suam tribui jubet. 



DE ANNULO CONJUGALI. 

Sed nee conjugii signum, Melvine, probabis ? 

Nee vel tantillum pignus habebit amor ? 
Nulla tibi si signa placent, e nubibus arcum 

Eripe ccelesti qui moderatur accuse. 
Ilia quidem a nostro non multum abludit imago, 

Annul us et plenus tempore forsan erit. 
Sin nebulis parcas, et nostro parcito signo, 

Cui non absimilis sensus inesse solet. 
Scilicet, ut quos ante suas cum conjuge tedas 

Merserat in lustris perniciosa Venus, 
Annulus hos revocet, sistatque libidinis undas 

Legitimi signum connubiale tori. 



DE MUNDIS ET MUNDANIS. 

Ex praelio undoe ignisque (si Physicis fides) 

Tranquillus aer nascitur : 
Sic ex profano Cosmico et Catliaro potest 

Christianus extundi bonus. 



286 Herbert's poems. 



DE OEATIONE DOMINICA. 

QuAM Christus immortalis innocuo gregi 
Voce sua dederat, 

Qiiis crederet mortalibus 
Orationem rejici septemplicem, 
Quae miseris clypeo 
Ajacis est praestaiitior ? 
Haec verba, superos advolaturus thronos 
Christus, ut auxilii 

Nos haud inanes linqueret, 
(Cum dignius nil posset aut melius dare) 
Pignora chara sui 

Fruenda nobis tradidit. 
Quis sic amicum excipiet, ut Cathari Deum, 
Qui renovare sacri 

Audent amoris Symbolum ? 
Tu vero quisquis es, cave, ne dum neges 
Improbe verba Dei, 

Te deneo^et Yerbum Deus. 



IN CATHARUM QUENDAM. 

Cum templis effare, madent sudaria, mappas, 
Trux caper alarum, suppara, Ifena, sagum. 

Quin populo, clemens, aliquid largire caloris 
Nunc sudas solus ; caetera turba riget. 



EPIGRAMMATA APOLOGETIC A. 287 



DE LUPA LUSTRI VATICANI. 

Calumniarum nee pudor quis nee modus 
Nee Yatiean^ desines unquam Lupae ? 
Metus inanes ! Nos pari praetervehi 
Illam Charybdim eautione novimus 
Vestramque Scyllam, aequis parati spieulis 
Britannieam in Vulpem, inque Romanam Lupam. 
Dicti fidem firmabimus Anagrammate. 



ROMA DABIT ORAM, MARO, RAMO, ARMO, MORA, 
ET AMOR. 

RoiMA, tiiiim nomen quam non pertransiit Oram, 

Cum Latium ferrent scecula prisea jugum ? 
Non deerat vel fama tibi, vel carmina f'amse, 

Unde Maro laudes duxit ad astra tuas. 
At nune exsueco similis tua gloria Ramo 

A veteri trunco et nobilitate eadit. 
Laus antiqua et honor perierunt, te velut Armo 

Jam deturbarunt tempora longa suo. 
Quin tibi jam desperate^ Mora nulla medetur ; 

Qua Fabio quondam sub duce nata salus. 
Hine te olim Gentes miratce odere vicissim ; 

Et cum sublata laude reeedit Amor. 



288 Herbert's poems. 



DE IMPOSITIONE MANUUM. 

Nec dextra te fugit almi Amoris emblema ? 
Atqui manus imponere integras prosstat, 
Quam (more vestro) imponere inscio vulgo. 
Quanto Impositio melior est Impostura ! 



SUPPLICUM MINISTEORUM RAPTUS. 

Kufiudov/xevo^. 

I. Ambitio Cathari qiiinque constat Actibus. 
Primo, unus aut alter parum ritus placet. 
Jam repit impietas volatiira illico. 

II. Mox disj)licent omnes. Ubi hoc permanserit 

III. Paulo, secretis mussitans in angulis 
Qu£erit recessus. Incalescit fabula, 

IV. Erumpit inde, et continere nescius 

V. Sylvas pererrat. Fibulis dein omnibus 
Prce spiritii ruptis, quo eas resarciat 
Amstellodamum corripit se. Plaudite. 



DE AUCTORUM ENUMERATIONS. 

Quo magis invidiam nobis, et crimina confles, 
Pertrahis in partes nomina magna tuas ; 

Martyra, Calvinum, Bezam, doctumque Bucerum, 
Qui tamen in nostros fortiter ire negant. 



EPIGRAMMATA APOLOGETICA. 289 

Whitaker, erranti quern praefers carmine, miles 

Assiduus nostras papilionis erat. 
Nos quoque possemus longas conscribere turmas, 

Si numero starent priBlia, non animis. 
Primus adest nobis, Pharisasis omnibus hostis, 

Christus Apostolici cinctus amore gregis. 
Tu geminas belli portas, O Petre, repandis, 

Dum gladium stringens Paulus ad arma vocat. 
Inde Patres pergunt quadrati, et tota Vetustas. 

Nempe Novatores quis Yeteranus amat ? 
Jam Constantinus multo se milite miscet ; 

Invisamque tuis erigit hasta Crucem. 
Hipponensis adest properans, et torquet in hostes 

Lampada, qua studiis invigilare solet. 
Teque Deum alternis can tans Ambrosius iram, 

Immemor antiqui mellis, eundo coquit. 
Haec etiam ad pugnam praesens, qua vivimus, setas 

Innumeram nostris partibus addit opem. 
Quos inter plenusque Deo, genioque Jacobus 

Defendit veram mente manuque fidem. 
Interea ad sacrum stimulat sacra Musica bellum, 

Qua sine vos miseri lentius itis ope. 
MiUtat et nobis, quem vos contemnitis, Ordo, 

Ordine discerni maxima bella solent. 
O vos invalidos ! Audi quem talibus armis i 

Eventum Naso vidit et admonuit ; 
Una dies Catharos ad bellum miserat omnes : 

Ad bellum missos perdidit una dies. 



290 Herbert's poems. 



DE AUKI SACKA FAI^IE. 

Claudis avaritia Satyram ; statuisque sacrorum 
Esse recidendas, ^ace noster, opes. 

Caetera condonabo tibi, scombrisque remittam : 
Sacrilegum carmen, censeo, flamma voret. 



AD SCOTIAM, PEOTEEPTICON AD PACEM. 

Scotia, quae frigente jaces porrecta sub Arcto, 

Cur adeo imniodica religione cales ? 
Anne tuas flammas ipsa Antiperistasis auget, 

Ut nive torpentes incaluere manus ? 
Aut ut pruna gelu summo mordacius urit. 

Sic acuunt zelum frigora tanta tuum ? 
Quin nocuas extingue faces, precor : unda propin- 

Et tibi vicinas porrigit sequor aquas ; [qua est, 
Aut potius Christi sanguis demissus ab alto, 
. , Vicinusque magis nobiliorque fluit : 
Ne, si flamma novis adolescat mota flabellis. 

Ante diem vestro mundus ab igne ruat. 



AD SEDUCTOS INNOCENTES. 

Tnnocu^ mentes, quibus inter flumina mundi 

Ducitur illimi Candida vita fide, 
Absit ut ingenuum pungant mea verba pudorem ; 



EPIGRAMMATA APOLOGETICA. 291 

Perstringunt vestros carmina sola duces. 
utinam aut illorum oculi (quod comprecor unum) 
Vobis, aut illis pectora vestra forent. 



AD ItlELVINUM. 

Atqui te precor unice per ipsam, 
QuDS scripsit numeros, manum ; per omnes 
Musarum calices, per et beatos 
Sarcasmos quibus artifex triumphas ; 
Quill per Presbyteros tuos ; per urbem 
Quam curto nequeo referre versu ; 
Per charas tibi, nobilesque dextras, 
Quas subscriptio neutiquam inquinavit ; 
Per quicquid tibi suaviter probatur ; 
Ne me carminibus nimis dicacem, 
Aut s£evum reputes. Arnica nostra est 
Atque edentula Musa, nee veneno 
Splenis perlita contumeliosi. 

Nam si te cuperem secare versu, 
Totamque evomerem potenter iram 
Quam aut Ecclesia despicata vobis, 
Aut leesae mihi suggerunt Athenae, 
(Et quern non stimularet hsec simultas ?) 
Jam te funditus igneis Camcenis, 
Et Musa crepitante subruissem : 
Omnis linea sepiam recusans 
Plumbo ducta fuisset sestuanti, 
Centum stigmatibus tuos inurens 



292 Herbert's poems. 

Profanos fremitus bonasque sannas : 
Plus charta haec mea delibuta dictis 
Hsesisset tibi, quam suprema vestis 
Olim accreverit Herculi furenti : 
Quin hoc carmine lexicon probrorum 
Extruxissem, ubi, cum moneret usus, 
Haurirent tibi tota plaustra Musae. 

Nunc liaec omnia sustuli, tonantes 
Affectus sociis tuis remittens. 
Non te carmine turbidum vocavi, 
Non deridiculumve, sive ineptum, 
Non striges, magiamve, vel rotatus, 
Non fastus tibi turgidos repono ; 
Errores, maculas, superbiamque, 
Labes, somniaque, ambitusque diros, 
Tinnitus Berecynthios omittens 
Nil horum regero tibi merenti. 

Quin te laudibus orno : quippe dico, 
Caesar sobrius ad rei Latin se 
Unus dicitur advenire cladem : 
Et tu solus ad Angliae procellas 
(Cum plerumque tua sodalitate 
Nil sit crassius, impolitiusve) 
Accedis bene doctus, et poeta. 



AD EUNDEM. 



Incipis irridens ; stomachans in carmine pergis ; 
Desinis exclamans : Tota figura, vale. 



EPIGRAMMATA APOLOGETIC A. 293 



AD SEREN. REGEM. 

EcCE pererratas, regum doctissime, nugas, 
Quas gens inconsulta, suis vexata procellis, 
Libandas nobis, absorbendasque propinat ! 
O ca3cos animi fratres ! quis vestra fatigat 
Corda furor, spissaque afflat caligine sensus ? 
Cernite, quam formosa suas Ecclesia pennas 
Explicat, et radiis ipsum pertingit Olympum ! 
Vicini populi passim mirantur, et aequos 
Mentibus attonitis cupiunt addiscere ritus ; 
Angelicse turmse uostris se csetibus addunt : 
Ipse etiam Christus coelo speculatus ab alto 
Intuituque uno stringens habitacula mundi, 
Sola mihi plenos, ait, exhibet Anglia cultus. 
Scilicet has olim divisas aequore terras 
Seposuit Divina sibi, cum conderet orbem, 
Progenies gemmamque sua quasi pyxide clausit. 

O qui Defensor Fidei meritissimus audis, 
Responde aeternum titulo ; quoque ordine felix 
Coepisti, pergas simili res texere filo. 
Obrue ferventes, ruptis conatibus, hostes : 
Quasque habet aut patulas, aut caeco tramite, moles 
Haeresis, evertas. Quid enim te fallere possit ? 
Tu venas, laticesque omnes quos sacra recludit 
Pagina, gustasti, multoque iuterprete gaudes : 
Tu Sjnodosque, Patresque, et quod dedit alta 
vetustas 



294 Herbert's poems. 

Haud per te moritura, Scholamque introspicis 

omnem. 
Nee transire licet quo mentis acumine finclis 
Viscera naturse, commistusque omnibus astris 
Ante tuum tempus coelum gratissimus ambis. 
Hac ope munitus securior excij^is undas, 
Quas Latii, Catharique movent, atque inter utrasque 
Pastor agis proprios, medio tutissimus, agnos. 

Perge, decus Regum ; sic, Augustissime, plures 
Sint tibi vel stellis laudes, et laudibus anni : 
Sic pulsare tuas, exclusis luctibus, ausint 
Gaudia sola fores : sic quicquid somnia mentis 
Intus agunt, habeat certum meditatio finem ; 
Sic positis nugis, quibus irretita libido 
Iimumeros mergit vitiata mente poetas, 
Sola Jacobaeum decantent carmina nomen. 



AD DEUM. 

Quem tu, summe Deus, semel 
Scribentem placido rore beaveris, 

Ilium non labor irritus 
Exercet miserum ; non dolor unguium 

Morsus increpat anxios ; 
Non mgeret calamus ; non queritur caput 

Sed foecunda poesewf 
Vis, et vena sacris regnat in artubus 

Qualis nescius aggerum 
Exundat fluvio Nilus amabiH. 



EPIGRAMMATA APOLOGETICA. 295 

dulcissime spiritus, 
Sanctos qui gemitus mentibus inseris 

A Te Turture defluos, 
Quod scribo, et placeo, si placeo, tuuin est. 



296 



INVENTA BELLICA. 



E MSTO. AUTOG. 



Oh Mortis longaeva fames, venterque perennis ! 
Quern non Emathius torrens, non sanguine pinguis 
Daunia, non satiat bis ter millesima caedis 
Progenies, mundique setas abdomine tanto 
Ingluvieque minor. Quercus habitare feruntur 
Prisci, crescentesque una cum prole cavernas ; 
Hinc tamen excludi mors noluit, ipsaque vitam 
Glans dedit, et truncus tectum, et ramalia mortem. 
Confluere interea passim ad Floralia pubes 
Coeperat, agricolis mentemque et aratra solutis. 
Compita fervescunt pedibus, clamoribus setber. 
Hie ubi discumbunt per gramina, salsior unus 
Omnia suspendit naso, sociosque lacessit : 
Non fert Ucalegon, atque amentata retorquet 
Dicta ferox, hserent lateri convitia fixo. 
Scinditur in partes vulgus ceu compita, telum 
Ira facit, mundusque ipse est apotheca furoris, 
Liber alit rixas, potantibus omnia bina 
Sunt praeter vitam : saxis hie sternitur, alter 
Ambustis sudibus, pars vitam in pocula fundunt, 
Bacchantur Lapithae, furit inconstantia vini. 
Sanguine quem dederat spolians : primordia belli 
Haec fuerant, sic Tisiphone virguncula lusit. 



INVENTA BELLICA. 297 

Non placuit rudis atque ignara occisio, morti 
Quseritur ingenium, doctusque liomicida probatur. 
Hinc tyrocinium, parvoque assueta juventus, 
Fictaque Bellona, et veree ludibria pugnae, 
Instructaique acies, hyemesque in pellibus actae. 
Omniaque haec ut transadigant sine crimine costas 
Artificesque necis clueant et mortis alumni. 
Nempe et millenos ad palum interficit hostes 
Assiduus tyro, si sit spectanda voluntas. 
superi ! quis tantum ipsis virtutibus instat, 
Quantum csedi ? adeone unam nos vivere vitam, 
Perdere sexcentas ? crescet tamen hydra nocendi 
Tristis, ubi ac ferrum tellure reciditur ima, 
Foecundusque chalybs sceleris, jam sanguine tinctus, 
Expleri nequit, at totum depascitur orbem. 
Quid memorem tormenta, quibus prius liorruit 

sevum, 
Balistasque, Onagrosque, et quicquid Scorpio saevus 
Vel Catapulta potest, Siculique inventa magistri, 
Angligenumque arces, gaudentes sanguine Galli 
Fustibales, fundasque quibus cum numine fretus 
Stravit Idumaeum divinus Tityrus bostem. 

Adde etiam currus et cum temone Britanno 
Arviragum, falcesque obstantia quseque metentes. 
Quin aries ruit et multa Demetrius arte, 
Sic olim cecidere. 

Deerat adhuc vitiis nostris dignissima mundo 
Machina, quam nullum satis execrabitur jevum ; 
Liquitur ardenti candens fornace metallum, 
Fusaque decurrit notis aqua ferrea sulcis : 



298 Herbert's poems. 

Exoritur tubus, atque instar Cyclopis Homeri, 
Luscum prodigium, medioque foramine gaudens ! 
Inde rotse atque axis subeunt, quasi sella curulis, 
Qua mors ipsa sedens hominum de gente triumphat. 
Accedit Pyrius pulvis laquearibus Orci 
Exulis, Irifernas pretiosa tragemata mensae, 
Sulphureaque lacu, totaque imbuta Mephiti. 
Hinc glans adjicitur, non quam ructare vetustas 
Creditur, ante satas prono cum vertice fruges. 
Plumbea glans, livensque suag quasi conscia noxse, 
Purpur«us lictor Plutonis, epistola fati. 
Plumbis obsignata, colosque et stamina vitas 
Perrumpens, Atropi vetulae marcentibus ulnis. 
Heec ubi vincta, subit vivo cum fune minister, 
Fatalemque levans dextram, qua stupeus ignis 
Mulcetur vento, accendit cum fomite partem 
Pulveris inferni, properat, datur ignis, et omnem 
Materiam vexat, nee jam se continet antro 
Tisiphone, flamma et fallaci fulmine cincta ; 
Evolat, horrendumque ciet bacchata fragorem. 
It stridor, cselosque omnes et Tartara findit. 
Non jam exaudiri quidquam vel musica sphaerae 
Vel gemitus Erebi, piceo se turbine volvens, 
Totamque eructans nubem glans proruit imo 
Precipitata, cadunt urbes formidine, muri 
Diffugiunt, fragilisque crepant coenacula mundi. 
Strata jacent toto millena cadavera campo, 
Uno ictu ; non sic pestis, non stella maligno 
Afflatu perimunt. En Cymba Cocytia turbis 
Ingemit, et defessus opem jam portitor orat. 



INVENTA BELLICA. 299 

Nec glans sola nocet, mortem quandoque susurrat 
Aura volans, vitamque aer quam paverat, aufert. 
Dicite 70S, Furiae ! qua gaudet origine monstrum ? 
Nox -^tnam, noctemque Chaos genuere priores, 
^tna Cacura ignivomum dedit, hie Ixiona Graecis 
Cantatum, deinde Ixion cum nubibus atris 
Congrediens genuit monachum, qui limen opacae 
Triste colens sellae, noctuque et Docmone plenum 
Protulit horrendum hoc primum cum pulvere mon- 
strum. 
Quis monachos mortem meditari, et pulvere tristi 
Versatos neget ? atque humiles queis talia cordi 
Tam demissa, ipsamque adeo subeuntia terram ? 

Nec tamen hie mortis rabies stetit ; exilit omni 
Tormento pejor Jesuita, et fulminat orbem, 
Ridens bombardas miseras, quse corpora perdunt 
Non animas ; raroque ornantur sanguine regum 
Obstreperae stulto sonitu, crimenque fatentes. 
Sistimus hie, inquit fatum, sat prata biberunt 
Sanguinis, innocuum tandem luet orbis Abelum. 

G. Herberte. 



300 



ALIA POEMATA LATINA. 



AD AUCTOREM INSTAURATIONIS MAGNJE. 

[FRA2JCISCUM BACON.] 

Per strages licet auctorum veterumque ruinam 

Ad famae properes vera Tropoea tuae, 
Tarn nitide tamen occidis, tarn suaviter hostes, 

Se quasi donatum funere quisque putat. 
Scilicet apponit pretium tua dextera fato,' 

Yuhiereque emanat sanguis, ut intret honos. 
quam felices sunt, qui tua castra sequuntur, 

Ciim per te sit res ambitiosa mori. 



IN HONOREM ILLUSTRISSIMI DOMINI FRANCISCI 
DE VERULAMIO VICE-COMITIS STI. ALBANI. 

POST EDITAM AB EO INSTAUE. MAGNAM. 

Quis iste tandem ? non enim Vultu ambulat 
Quotidiano. Nescis, ignare ? audies. 
Dux Notionum ; Veritatis Pontifex ; 
Inductionis Dominus, et Verulamii ; 
Rerum Magister Unicus, at non Artium : 
Profunditatis Pinus, atque Elegantiae ; 



ALIA POEM AT A LATIN A. 301 

Naturae Aruspex intimus ; Philosophiae 
-^rarium, Sequester Experientiae, 
Speculationisque ; -3^quitatis Signifer; 
Scientiarum sub pupillari statu 
Degentium olim Emancipator ; Luminis 
Promus : Fugator Idolum, atque Nubium : 
CoUega Solis : Quadra Certitudinis : 
Sopbismatum Mastix ; Brutus Literarius, 
Autboritatis exuens Tjrannidem : 
Rationis et Sensus stupendus Arbiter. 
Repumicator mentis : Atlas Pbysicus, 
Alcide succumbente Stagiritico ; 
Cokimba Noae, quae in vetustate Artibus 
Nullum locum requiemque cernens, praestitit 
Ad se suumque Matris, Arcam regredi. 
Subtilitatis terebra ; Temporis nepos 
Ex veritate Matre ; Mellis Alveus ; 
Mundique et Animarum Sacerdos Unicus; 
Securisque Errorum ; inque Natalibus 
Granum Sinapis, acre aliis, Crescens sibi ; 
O me prope Lassum ! Juvate Posteri. 

Geoe. Herbert. Orat. Pub. in 
AcADEM. Cantab. 



IN OBITUM INCOMPARABILIS FRANCIS CI VICE- 
COMITIS SANCTI ALBANI, BAEONIS VERULAMH. 

DuM longi lentique gemis sub pondere morbi, 

Atque liaeret dubio tabida vita pede ; 
Quid voluit prudens Fatum, jam sentio tandem : 



302 Herbert's poems. 

Constat, Aprile uno te potuisse mori : 
Ut Flos hinc lacrymis, illinc Philomela querelis, 
Deducant linojuse funera sola tuae. 



COMPARATIO INTER MUNUS SUMMI CANCELLA- 
RIATUS ET LIBRUM. 

MuNERE clum nobis prodes, Libroque futuris, 
In laudes abeunt soecula quseque tuas ; 

Munere dum nobis prodes, Libroque remotis. 
In laudes abeunt jam loca quseque tuas : 

H^ tibi sunt alas laudum. Cui contigit unquam 
Longius aeterno, latius orbe decus ? 



j:thiopissa ambit cestum diversi coloris 

VIRUM. 

Quid milii si facies nigra est ? hoc, Ceste, colore 

Sunt etiam tenebras, quas tamen optat amor. 
Cernis ut exusta semper sit fronte viator ; 

Ah longum, qu£e te deperit, errat iter. 
Si nigro sit terra solo, quis despicit arvum ? 

Claude oculos, et erunt omnia nigra tibi : 
Aut aperi, et cernes corpus quas projicit umbras ; 

Hoc saltem officio fungar amore tui. 
Cum mihi sit facies fumus, quas pectore flammas 

Jamdudum tacite delituisse putes ? 
Dure, negas ? O fata mihi praisaga doloris, 

Quae mihi lugubres contribuere genas ! 



ALIA POEMATA LATINA. 303 



IN NATALES ET PASCHA CONCURRENTES. 

Cum tu, Christe, cadis, nascor ; mentemque ligavit 

Una meam membris horula, teque cruci. 
me disparibus natum cum numine fatis ! 

Cur mihi das vitam, quam tibi, Christe, negas ? 
Quin moriar tecum : vitam, quam negligis ipse, 

Accipe ; ni talem des, tibi qualis erat. 
Hoc mihi legatum tristi si funere prtestes, 

Christe, duplex fiet mors tua vita mihi : 
Atque ibi per te sanctificer natalibus ipsis, 

In vitam, et nervos Pascha coseva fluet. 



AD JOHANNEM DONNE, D.D. 

DE UNO SIGILLORUM EJUS, ANCHORA ET CHRISTO. 

Quod crux nequibat fixa, clavique additi 
(Tenere Chri?cum scilicet, ne ascenderet) 
Tuive Christum devocans facundia 
Ultra loquendi tempus ; addit Anchora : 
Nee hoc abunde est tibi, nisi certse Anchorae 
Addas Sigillum : nempe symbolum suae 
Tibi dedit unda et terra certitudinis. 
Quondam fessus amor loquens amato, 
Tot et tanta loquens arnica, scripsit ; 
Tandem et'fessa manus, dedit Sigillum. 



304 Herbert's poems. 

Suavis erat, qui scripta, dolens, lacerando recludi 
Sanctius in regno magni credebat amoris 
(In quo fas nihil est rumpi) donare Sigillum. 

Munde, fluas fugiasque licet, nos nostraque fixi : 

Deridet motus sancta Catena tuos. 



IN OBITUM SEEENISSIM^ BEGINS ANNJl. 
(e lachrymis cantabrigiensibus.) 

Quo te, felix Anna, modo deflere licebit ? 
Cui magnum imperium. gloria major erat : 
Ecce mens torpens animus succumbit utrique, 
Cui tenuis fama est, ingeniumque minus. 
Quis,nisi qui manibus Briareus,oculisque sit Argus, 

Scribere te dignum vel lacrymare queat ? 
Frustra igitur sudo ; superest mihi sola voluptas, 

Quod calamum excusent Pontus et Astra meum: 
Namque Annae laudes coelo scribuntur aperto, 

Sed luctus noster scribitur Oceano. 



IN OBITUM HENEICI PEINCIPIS WALLU:. 

(ex EPICEDIO CANTAB RIGIENST.) 

Ite leves (inquam), Parnassia numina, musas I 
Non ego vos posthae, hederce velatus amictu, 
Somnis nescio quels nocturna ad vota vocabo : 
Sed nee Cirrhsei saltus, Libethriave arva 
In mea dicta ruant ; non tam mihi pendula mens est, 



ALIA POEMATA LATINA. 305 

Sic quasi Diis certem, magnos accersere montes ; 
Nee vaga de summo deducam flumina monte, 
Qualia parturiente colunt sub rupe sorores : 
Si quas mens agitet moles (dum pectora saevo 
Tota stupent luctu) laciymisque exaestuet sequis 
Spiritus, hi mihi jam montes, hsec flumina sunto : 
Musa, vale ! et tu, Phoebe ! dolor mea carmina dictet 
Hinc mihi principium : vos, o labentia mentis 
Lumina, nutantes pauUatim acquirite vires, 
Vivite, dum mortem ostendam : sic tempora vestram 
Non comedant famam, sic nulla oblivia potent. 
Quare age, mens ! effare, precor, quo numine la3so ? 
Quse suberant causae ? quid nos committere tantum, 
Quod non lanigerce pecudes, non agmina lustrent ? 
Annon longa fames, miseraeque injuria pestis 
Poena minor fuerat, quam fatum Principis segrum ? 
Jam felix Philomela, et menti conscia Dido ! 
Felices quos bella premunt et plurimus ensis ! 
Non metuunt ultra ; nostra infortunia tantum 
Fataque, Fortunasque et spem lassere futuram. 
Quod si fata illi longam invidere salutem 
Et patrio regno (sub quo jam Principe nobis 
Quid sperare, immo quid non sperare licebat ?) 
Debuit ista pati prima et non nobilis aetas : 
Aut cita mors est danda bonis aut longa senectus. 
Sic Isetare animos et sic ostendere gemmam 
Excitat optatus avidos, et ventilat ignem. 
Quare etiam nuper Pjrii de pulveris ictu 
Principis innocuam servastis numina vitam 
Ut morbi perimant, alioque in pulvere prostet. 



oUb HERBERTS POEMS. 

Phoebe, tui puduit, quum summo mane redires, 
Sol sine sole tuo ! quum te turn nubibus atris 
Totum offuscari peteres, ut nocte silenti 
Humana oeternos agerent praecordia questus : 
Tantum etenim vestras, Parcse, non flectit habenas 
Tempus edax rerum, tuque o mors improba sola es 
Cui caecas tribuit vires annosa vetustas ! 
Quid non mutatum est ? requierunt flumina cursus : 
Plus etiam veteres coelum videre remotum : 
Cur ideo verbis tristes effundere curas 
Expeto, tanquam base sic nostri medicina doloris ? 
Immodicus luctus tacito vorat igne medullas, 
Ut fluvio currente, vadum sonat, alta quiescunt. 



Innupta Pallas, nata Diespatre ! 
Sterna summae gloria regiae ! 
Cui dulcis arrident camoenae 
Pieridis Latiaeque Musae. 

Cur tela mortis, vel tibi, vel tuis 
Quacunque gutta temporis imminent ? 
Tantaque propendet statera 
Regula sanguinolenta fati ? 

Numne Hydra talis tantaque bellua est 
Mors tot virorum sordida sanguine, 
Ut mucro rumpatur Minervse 
Utque minak superetur iEgis ? 



ALIA POEMATA LATINA. 

Tu flectis amnes, tu mare caerulum 
Ussisse prono fulmine diceris, 
Ajacis exesas triremes 

PriEcipitans graviore casu. 

Tu discidisti Gorgoneas manus 
Nexas, capillos anguibus oblitos, 
Furvosque vicisti Gigantem 

Enceladum, pharetramque Rhoeci. 

Ceu victa, musis porrigit herbulas 
Pennata caeci dextra cupidinis, 
Non ulla BellonfE furentis 
Arma tui metuimt alumni. 

Pallas retortis caesia vocibus 
Respondit ; Eia ! ne metuas, precor, 
Nam fata non justis repugnant 
Principibus, sed arnica fiunt. 

Ut si recisis arboribus meis 
Nudetur illic lucus amabilis, 

Fruetusque post mortem recusent 
Perpetuos mihi ferre rami. 

Dulcem rependent tum mihi tibiam 
Pulchre renatam ex arbore mortua, 
Dignamque coelesti corona 
Harmoniam dabit inter astra. 



307 



308 Herbert's poems. 



E. MSTO. AUTOG. 

Cum petit Infantem Princeps, Grantamque Jacobus, 
Quisnam horum major sit, dubitatur, amor ? 

Vincit more suo Noster : nam millibus Infans 
Non tot abest, quot nos Regis ab ingenio. 



E. MSTO. AUTOG. 

Vero verius ergo quid sit, audi ; 
Verum, Gallice, non libenter audis. 



THE END. 



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